


Tahara

by ThePugAddict



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Aaravos comes in at Chapter 6, Aaravoyeurism, Adultery, After loads of Viren content of course, Angry Kissing, Arranged Marriage, Cunnilingus, Dubcon Kissing, Dubious Consent, F/M, Light Bondage, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Power Play, Rough Foreplay, Smut, Wedding Night, Women knocking Viren off his high horse is a new genre of porn, oral hate sex, warning: abusive relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2019-11-12 04:10:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 48,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18003569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePugAddict/pseuds/ThePugAddict
Summary: You, the daughter of a Katolian noble family, are married off to Lord Viren in pursuit of heightening your family's honor. At first, life as the High Mage's second wife isn't glorious-- your husband is difficult, arrogant and too secretive for your comfort. Soon, misunderstandings fade away, and it seems that the two of you are drawing closer until political tragedy strikes Katolis. Your husband's real colors will come out, and although you're a strong woman, they'll be more than what you can handle.Add a mysterious magic mirror and a hauntingly beautiful elf, and your life will turn into a hellish political battlefield that is difficult to survive. Your morals will be tested, and you will face a struggle of loyalty versus desire.There is no hero in this story. No one comes out innocent... Not even you.





	1. The Matchmaker

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, my fellow TDP fans. Welcome to the first long fanfic that I've done in a while. I came into this fandom not even a week ago, and I'm already here wreaking some havoc. You can blame everyone who kept telling me about a certain purple elf that people were thirsting over...
> 
> Now, let the thirst be quenched with a rain. Please enjoy!

There were two routes by which love was found in the Kingdom of Katolis. The first was the “modern” or common way—person one meets person two, a spark happens, then some courting takes place followed by dates, dinners and the whole bit for two years or so, until both parties finally decide to be wed (usually after much whining from their relatives). Such was the route of the common folk. The second was betrothal, also known as the “traditional” way; though not as frequently practiced as the first, it proved just as successful. If one were rich and seeking a spouse, they’d drop a hefty bit of coin on a matchmaker and be married within months: simple as that. But if one were rich and _powerful_ , they wouldn’t hire just any matchmaker in the country. They’d go to Pasha.

Madame Pasha, the Imperial Matchmaker. Grand Mistress of the Art of Love. Her fantastic work brought her name far beyond Katolis’ borders, hence why dozens of nobles, lords and princes were always calling upon her to help marry their sons and daughters. The lady was known for sparking off the most iconic royal romances of the decades, including those of King Harrow and the Queens of Duren. To date, her resume listed 4 engagements, 6 new marriages, 15 marriages on their 10th anniversary, 13 marriages on their 20th anniversary, and 8 marriages on their 30th anniversary or older. In total, that was 42 successful marriages.

Within Pasha’s career, only one marriage wound up in divorce.

~ooo~

Mina opened the doors slightly and popped her head in. “Your next client is here to see you, Grandma.” Her timid voice prompted a talking woman to pause and lean in her seat to peek between the finely dressed couple sitting before her.

“Excellent, dear. I’m just finishing up. Tell them about five more minutes.”

The girl didn’t move. Her thick black brows were furrowing, and she was biting her lip. Her grandmother noticed this and raised her own brows as if to ask what was wrong. “Ummh… He insists to see you right away.” Her eyes shifted downward when she noticed the couple staring at her blankly. “He keeps saying that he’s on a very tight schedule.”

The woman rolled her eyes and pursed her lips. The next appointment wasn’t supposed to be for another ten minutes. Clients were _always_ on a tight schedule. She’d been in the business long enough; she knew how to cater to them. But it was _their_ responsibility to choose the best time. Thus, he’d have to wait. “ _Five minutes_ , Mina,” she emphasized. “That’s all I’m asking for.”

Mina nodded, retracted her head and closed the doors.

The woman was able to finish the meeting within four minutes. After her clients left, she returned to her desk and sorted some papers into a folder, then placed them neatly into a drawer. Feeling thirsty from all the talking, she reached over to a porcelain teapot and poured herself another fresh cup of tea. Just before she could take a sip did one of the doors open, and the sudden appearance of a bone-white staff made her stand up quickly and set her tea down hard enough to spill a few drops.

“Morning, Madame Pasha.”

She blinked twice. “ _Lord Viren?_ ”

The High Mage approached her desk wearing a proud smile. “Ah. So you still recognize me after almost twenty years?” he chuckled. “I take it that’s a good sign on my part.”

Still surprised, Pasha put on a smile and bowed to him. “Oh of… course.” She motioned to one of the chairs. “Please have a seat. Would you care for something to drink?”

“Just some water, if you would.” Viren sat down in the chair, neatly setting both hands on the head of his staff so that it stood upright. Pasha threw one glance at the staff while making her way to a small table with a water jug, a coffee pot and some cups. Did he _still_ carry that strange thing everywhere he went? She could never understand mages and their mystical obsessions. Or perhaps it dually functioned as a reminder of his authority? Then she remembered the many male clientele who carried around gaudy canes, swords and other weapons just to compensate for something.

“How have you been these days?” Pasha grabbed the water jug and poured into one of the cups. “Hopefully your duties haven’t worn you down too horribly?”

“They have, a little bit,” sighed Viren, thumb rubbing the purple stone of his staff. “That’s the price of serving a nation. One can never rest when he’s the right hand to the king. Nevertheless, it’s worth keeping us all moving forward.”

The matchmaker returned to the desk and handed him the water. He thanked her with a nod and took a sip. “And what about the children?” Her tone was a bit perkier. “I heard that your son became a member of the Crownguard.” She sauntered back to her seat, placing her hands neatly in the lap of her robes.

“Oh. Yes, it’s quite an achievement for him. He’d been training for the position for years. They picked him immediately after he turned eighteen.”

“Aaaah.” Her face brightened. “Then this couldn’t be more perfect timing! The Count and Countess of Ershire were just here. They have a daughter who’s almost nineteen years old. She’s a sweet girl and a magnificent beauty. Once we set up Soren’s portfolio, then I can add her to the list of candidates if you’d like?”

Viren looked indifferent. There was a pause. “That’s generous,” he stated slowly, “but I’m not here for my son.”

The sparkle in Pasha’s eyes had dimmed. Her smile had fallen slowly. “Then… are you here for _Claudia_?” She shook her head. “I apologize, Lord Viren, but she’s still young yet. I only perform matches for people of at least eighteen years. However, if you’d like I can—”

“I’m not here for Claudia either, Pasha.”

Now, the beam of light had _completely_ vanished from her face. Making direct eye contact with the man before her, Pasha placed both hands on her desk. “Then… for _whom_?”

Viren cocked his brow. “For _Myself_ ,” he answered firmly. “Whom else?”

There was a moment of silence for what almost felt like an eternity. Pasha was frozen like a statue, still staring at Viren, now with a lifeless look. If he were to look more closely at her wrinkles, however, he would’ve seen the marks of horror beneath her eyes. His eyes narrowed in perplexity. “Something the matter, Madame?”

Right when the High Mage spoke, the matchmaker’s demeanor shifted disturbingly fast. She snapped back to her Perky self as if nothing had troubled her. “Oh, nothing wrong, my lord! Something _wonderful_ came to mind!” She stood from her chair and smoothed out her robes. “I think I already have… _just_ the match for you.”

Lord Viren’s eyes reopened. Pasha muttered something along the lines of “give me a moment” and walked away from her desk. His brows scrunched a bit as he watched her head for the bathroom door in the right-hand corner. Why was this woman acting strangely? Was she feeling ill?

Then, Pasha came back. She slammed something down in front of Viren.

A roll of toilet paper.

The man was so taken by surprise that he did nothing but stare at it. Grey eyes turning to slits, he took one hand off his staff and leaned forward slightly, staring at the thing like he was struggling to decipher some ancient language. Knowing Pasha’s ways, she _had_ to be making an awfully bold statement. He leaned back and looked at her. “What is this?” he asked softly. His brow twitched when he discovered her black eyes aimed at him like daggers.

_“Your bride.”_

Viren glared at her as if to question her intent. Her voice rasped like a lion’s growl. “She’s perfectly compatible with assholes. She’ll clean up all the _shit_ you sputter, too.”

His reaction was not at all unexpected, but it was priceless for her to watch. The man looked as if he’d been slapped across the face, eyes wide open and mouth hanging in the shape of an “O.” For once, it seemed Viren was at a loss for words, only making incomprehensible stutter noises. Finally, his eyes flared, and he snarled at the bold lady. “How… _Dare_ you?!” He shot up from his seat and slammed the end his staff against the floor. “I come to you asking for your services, I’m not even here for two minutes and you’re _already_ throwing insults at me?!”

“How dare _you_ return to me?!” Pasha was much shorter than Viren, but her daunting eyes made up for it, so much that they almost made him lean back. “You spend years speaking ill of me, telling the world that my business is ‘overrated,’ and casting the blame on me for your first divorce. Now you’re crawling back to me and beckoning for a _second_ bride? It seems the rumors were accurate, Lord Viren: you haven’t changed a bit since I first worked with you!”

The High Mage pointed his finger at her. “I… was telling my peers the truth,” he snarled. “It was _your fault_! She ended up becoming an absolute nightmare, and you oh ‘Grand Mistress of Love’ would’ve seen that coming!”

“I made that match because you wouldn’t accept my initial recommendations!”

Viren grinned and hopped. “ _Aha_! You _admit_ it! You set up that match on purpose because I dared to question your professional opinion!” He put his fist on his hip, glaring down at her like a spoiled child thinking that he was right. He shook his head and chuckled. “You’re such a stuck-up, overprized, pompous cow!”

Pasha would’ve thrown her cup of tea at his face, but she stood her ground and kept silent before she overreacted. As enraged as she was, she wouldn’t stoop to the level of this berating man-child. “Then why are you here, Lord Viren?” she asked slowly. “What could you possibly get from a ‘stuck-up, overprized, pompous cow?’” Viren’s pride was gradually melting away. The finger that pointed was slowly recoiling, and the hand descended onto the desk. She waited for an answer, her stare unwavering.

Visage now expressionless, Viren leaned his staff against the desk. He sat down slowly. “I want,” he responded, “to give you a chance at redemption.”

Pasha’s eyes followed him. She could sense another wave of bullshit coming. “And why would I want redemption?”

He huffed. “Well, why _wouldn’t_ you want it? The failure of my marriage is the ugly scar on your otherwise flawless record. You’re a master at your craft. You’ve made dozens of beautiful matches over the years. Surely you must’ve thought about where you went wrong with my match. You must regret it every day of your life. Do you not?”

She let out a hefty sigh. Tan hands came onto her desk and folded together neatly. “It’s true... I do, indeed, regret that match. I know _exactly_ where my faults were. Now I’ve learned, and I’ve vowed never to make that same mistake ever again.”

Was there a glimmer of hope for the middle-aged man? He was beginning to smile victoriously, greyish irises glimmering. “Then now is the chance to right your wrongs, Pasha. Put what you’ve learned into practice. Give me the same service you would to any of your clients—your best service. Do this, and I’ll never utter a single bad thing about you again.”

Pasha looked up from her desk. The strength in her was coming back. She postured herself upright in the most professional manner. “Very well, Lord Viren. I’ll give you my _best_ service.” Her voice was assertive but calm. She cleared her throat and took another deep breath. “To do that, I’m going to tell you the _exact_ _same thing_ I did before, and this time I’m going to stick to it… Due to your personal characteristics, you are unfit for marriage. That said, if you want my services, then you’ll first have to seek the counseling I suggested before.”

Viren’s face was starting to turn a shade of red again. Instead of sputtering at her again, however, he inhaled deeply and pursed his lips. “Look, Madame. You’re passing judgement upon me too quickly. It’s been _twenty years_ now. I was a different man back then—I was young, brash and airheaded. I wasn’t ready to settle down with a wife. For God’s sake, I did the most scoff-worthy things when I was in my twenties.” He chuckled to himself, motioning with his left hand. “Why, I used to think that gold pinky rings were classy!”

Pasha’s eyes went to the gold pinky ring on his right hand. “Uh huh.”

“My point is…” Viren looked at her beckoningly. “I’ve become much wiser since then. I wasn’t ready back then, but I am now. I _know_ I am. Just… please, Pasha.” He leaned forward, his face sincere. “Find it in your heart to give me another chance. I’m giving you a second chance, so why not give me the same? I’ll pay you extra this time. No, _double_ the cost!”

Pasha was quiet. The other could tell that she was contemplating heavily on her decision—that, or she was about to throw him the toilet paper and tell him to fuck off. Viren gazed at her, awaiting her answer. He might’ve been on the verge of puppy eyes when he saw her lips open.

“Make that double and a _half_ for calling me a cow.”

A breath of relief. “ _Deal_.”


	2. The Selection

 

“She needs to be a female by birth. No exceptions. She needs to be at least eighteen years of age, but no older than thirty. I want her to be from a proud noble family from Katolis, but she _must_ be a blood descendant. No adoptions. She must not have been married before, cannot be a mother and must be a virgin. She cannot have any serious medical conditions that inhibit her daily life. She must be able to read, hear and speak fluent common tongue. She must not have any amputations. She must not have any unsightly scars or lacerations on her body. She must have small to medium sized nipples. Appearance wise, she must be at least an eight out of ten. She must not be allergic to bird feathers. She must enjoy harp music, but she cannot be a fan of the accordion. She must enjoy tea and coffee. She cannot be messy. She cannot snort when she laughs. She must be able to laugh at satire. She must be able to tell someone what a haiku is and be able to _write_ a haiku. She must like toffee. She must not have a habit of making any irritating noises such as slurping, tongue clicking, loud chewing, whistling, and obnoxious singing. And, for the love of God, she cannot—I repeat, she _cannot_ —poke people to get their attention.”

Pasha stopped scribbling down notes halfway through Viren’s list of requests. She stared at him, waiting for him to finish, and when he was done she smirked. “Goodness. After all of that, the toilet paper _still_ stands as the best match.”

Viren threw her a dirty look but added. “And one _more_ thing.” He placed both hands on the desk. “The word ‘yeet’ _cannot_ be part of her vocabulary.”

The matchmaker adjusted her headscarf and cocked her head, frowning. “’Yeet?’ What does that even mean?”

The High Mage rolled his eyes. “Ugh. I don’t freaking know. It’s… something the kids keep saying these days. I don’t care what it means. That word just gets under my skin.”

The two were meeting up for almost an hour a day. Pasha wanted to get this over with as much as Viren did, so she was sure to put as much time aside as possible. The sooner this royal pain got a match, the sooner she wouldn’t have to see his face again.

Finally, after two weeks of endless searching, Madame Pasha narrowed the candidates down to five girls.

~ooo~

The sun had just broken through the horizon when Leda came into your bedchamber and opened your curtains. You heard her softly murmur your name twice, awakening as you slowly opened your eyes to the rush of morning light. Eyes and brain not yet adjusted, you shut your eyes again with a grunt and buried your face in your pillow.

 _Just ten more minutes_. _Please_.

Alas, the maid persisted. “Your mother insists you rise now, my lady. You have many appointments.”

You rolled over onto your back and propped yourself up sluggishly. Your fingers combed your messy locks from out of your face. As much as you hated being woken up too early on a Saturday, you couldn’t complain to either Leda or your mother—today was the day you’d (possibly) be getting engaged.

It had been a few months since your family enrolled you in Madame Pasha’s matchmaking pool. For a daughter of the esteemed House Bartolomus, you were relatively old for a prospective bride: already at twenty-four, whereas most girls in your family became brides at eighteen. Nevertheless, it seemed to be worth the wait. Your profile had caught Pasha’s attention, and you were chosen as one of the final candidates for the hand of the second most powerful man in Katolis, the High Mage Lord Viren. Your parents were ecstatic about the news, and it was probably the only thing they’d been bragging about for the past three days. Though a marvelous honor, it was also terrifying on your end. By the grace of the gods, you could not mess up on the matching day. _Period_.

As one of the final candidates, you were to come to the crown city for the matching day. There, you were to meet with Pasha and partake in a ritual called the “First View”—when you’d be seen by Lord Viren for the first time in person. From what you understood, the point of the First View was to mimic a classic romantic scene: person one sees person two from across the room, the two become captivated by their beauty, and sparks fly. That said, the candidates had to dress formally, and the potential brides had to make themselves appear as beautiful as possible. And for you, that meant three hours of back-to-back beauty appointments right before departing for the capital.

You wished you would’ve had those extra ten minutes to sleep. This was going to be an _incredibly_ long day.

After your morning bath and your breakfast, you were brought straight to the town salon for your appointments. The first to sit for was a manicure and a pedicure, the only relaxing parts of the transformation. The bliss was very short-lived, for what quickly followed was a thorough shaving, plucking and waxing for every inch of your body that wasn’t your eyebrows or top of your head. It was surprisingly intense, though it didn’t hurt until they came to your face. You could’ve sworn the second most painful thing for a woman, aside from giving birth, was a waxing of the upper lip.

With the worst out of the way, you could move on to the hair. The women diligently worked your hair into an intricate updo, with a few braids incorporated into the look. When it was finished, they delicately pinned a white orchid into the hair for some character. From how many pins, gels and creams they had to use to cement everything into place, the style was sure not to move all day. Your arse was hurting from sitting for so long, but you were nonetheless marveled when they were done. You were already starting to look like a bride.

Next were the cosmetics. Your rear would have to put up with a hard chair for a little while longer as the makeup girls worked on you. With skin-colored creams and powders, your complexion was smoothed into a texture that resembled satin. A light blush was dabbed onto your cheeks as well as some other colors to bring out your finest features. One girl took a brush and painted your lips with a rich ruby red. The other one handled your eyes, dusting a fine purple powder over your lids and using a thin brush to paint on a black eyeliner. They finished off with some more black liquid to bring out your eyelashes and a dark powder to fill your brows. Your mother was fawning over your face in the end, as were a few onlookers in the salon. You’d have to keep reminding yourself throughout the day not to touch your face.

You headed back to the household for the final step of preparation. Waiting on a mannequin in your room until now was a charmingly elegant gown. The fabric was a rich red silk, embroidered with gold at the sleeves and hems, waist wrapped up with a matching gold sash. The dress felt light and comfortable to wear, so you wouldn’t dread being in it all day. Last came some gold jewelry—a pair of earrings, a thin circlet for your head, and a necklace—along with a red fan and some red shoes.

You took a deep breath. You couldn’t believe the girl in the mirror was you and not a life-sized doll. It would’ve been impossible for any man to not fall for you upon first sight. You were enthralled, but the processing of your image was adding to your nerves. Lots of coin, time and dozens of hands had come together to make you into this. It was plain to see that your family was counting on you today. The ball was in your court; you could bring them yet another strike of glory, or you could come home empty-handed. Whatever the outcome, you had to make this day count. For the name. For the honor. For the kingdom. For yourself.

~ooo~

The journey into Katolis Capital was under an hour by carriage from where you lived. The matchmaker’s estate was somewhere within a suburban region in the southern district, an upscale area with a scenery composed of refined offices, banks and shops. As the carriage headed down a private road towards the building, you could see a handful of other carriages parked out front. Then you saw some imperial guards standing there with the horses, and your heart almost jumped. Lord Viren must’ve been here already, waiting inside for the selection to begin.

You weren’t sure what to expect. You’d never seen this man in real life. Yes, you’d seen sketches and portraits of him before, but they could only do so much justice. Most of them were quite some years old. A few were newer but couldn’t be trusted, for it was common practice for artists to tamper with some of the features of older men upon request. And noticing that Viren’s portraits weren’t at all dreadful, you had reason to be more anxious.

Your carriage stopped in front, and your driver opened the door. Holding onto the skirt of your gown, you were carefully escorted off your ride and towards the grand open doors. Your parents were accompanying you as were your grandmother and an extra servant. When you looked to your side, you saw one of the other candidates stepping out of her carriage with her family in tow. Vibrant colors captured your eye, and you had to admit to yourself that the other girl was impressive. She young, exceptionally pretty and had a bit of energy by the way she strutted with her fan. She donned a blue dress with rich gold and green embroidery, her long brown locks done up and embellished with a few pearls and peacock feathers. You caught a glimpse of a crest on her father’s brooch and deduced that she was from House Alabast, another powerful Katolian family. You had no reason to be intimidated, but the sight reminded you how competitive today would be.

Soon, you found yourself inside a waiting room with the rest of the candidates. Two of the girls were sitting quietly in anticipation. The vivacious brunette you saw earlier was the only one talking in the room—that was, incessantly to the fourth girl, who was sitting with her arms crossed and looked just about ready to bark at her to shut up. You took a seat next to one of the girls in the corner, waiting silently.

It was right at the strike of noon when one of the doors in the room opened slowly. Everyone watched as Madame Pasha herself stepped into the room. You would’ve though the whole world would end when you saw her, but strangely enough, it felt like the complete opposite. The lady could hold a room the moment she walked in.

She was an elder woman, short and stout. Her entire body was shrouded in bright robes and scarves, leaving only her wrinkled face and hands visible. The only accessories on her person were a gold pendant hanging down to her middle and a matching gold pin that held her headscarves in place. She was poised and dignified, commanding the respect of all onlookers. However, her expression was warm and bright, friendly and powerful enough to throw the weight of the world off your shoulders in that fateful moment. Even her tone was cheery as she bowed her head and welcomed the candidates with a smile.

“Shall we begin, gracious ladies?”

You all stood before Pasha in a line as she went through the details. The ritual was straightforward. Each bridal candidate would walk into the room by herself. Inside, Pasha would be seated next to Viren, and both would examine her—the First View. Pasha would conduct a short interview with her, and Viren would be allowed to ask questions of his own when the interview was finished. Lastly, the candidate would have a few minutes to ask Viren questions, then exit the room. No final decisions were to be made until the ritual was over. The victor would be chosen soon after, and she’d be betrothed on the spot.

Just a few simple questions. How tough would it be?

To your horror, _very tough_.

The first to go in was the talkative Alabast girl (you discovered that her name was Irina). The change in her demeanor from before to after her ritual was tragic. She went in between the doors with perky energy, but after only a moment or two—way shorter than her time was supposed to be—a low, harsh “no” was muffled from the other room. Without warning, she busted through the doors with a sob-scream and ran out of the room. While the baffled girls stared wide-eyed, Madame Pasha came to the open doors with the face of a murderer. Her countenance, however, didn’t seem to be due to the girl. She muttered an apology under her breath and slammed the doors back shut. What you heard behind the doors afterwards was a loud squabble between the matchmaker and a male voice.

The shocking show brought the curse of fear upon you. If the first girl was brought to tears, then the rest of you were fucked.

Next was a girl with ebony hair and dark skin dressed in lavender. Cetine, daughter of the Count of Fabich—her family was either the second or third cousins to King Harrow. No doubt she was more refined than Irina, but even she didn’t look to have the best time either. There was no drama this time, and she had stayed in the room for the full ritual. However, when the young lady came out, she hung her head and groaned, fingertips pressed to her scrunched forehead.

Apparently, you were dead last on the list to go, and thus you bore the largest burden of discouragement. The last two candidates before you came out with essentially the same demeanor. It was torturous to watch for the first hour, but at least you were prepared to expect something unpleasant… whatever it would be.

Finally, your fate had come. When the fourth girl walked out, Pasha stepped out from behind the door with her list in hand. Her black eyes met with yours, and she smiled at you (though you could tell she was trying). “[y/n], First Daughter of House Bartolomus?”

You held your breath and nodded.

She opened the door wider for you, gesturing with her other hand. Her tone was like that of a bratty child’s mother—assuring, kind, but almost apologetic. “Come in, dear.”

There was no turning back. Your initial goal was to shine like a star and win a husband. Now, whatever the outcome, all you wanted to do was get this over with. Your family could wait a little longer for a betrothal. Folding your hands, you followed Pasha inside.

There were two red curtains at the end of the doorway that blocked your view to the room. Pasha gently touched your shoulder. “Wait right here,” she whispered before disappearing between the curtains. Taking deep breaths, you stood tall and poised yourself as practiced. Your heart was thumping, knees about to give, but you’d go through with it.

Maybe there would be hope for you. Maybe not. As the last of the candidates, you had an advantage: the others didn’t do well, but you could step up and impress. The question was, _did you want to_?

“Last but not least, the fifth candidate. Lady [y/n], First Daughter of House Bartolomus.”

The curtains were drawn back. Sunlight beamed upon your form. In the dead center of your sight and sitting across that room was the grand prize.

Grey eyes were narrowed on you, and your breath _hitched_.

_Lord Viren looked exactly like the portraits._

Pasha was off to the side of the carpet leading to Viren’s seat. “Cone forward, my dear,” she instructed.

You took in one more deep breath, chest expanding, then began to walk down the carpet. Though you had to gaze directly at the man at the other end, you wouldn’t dare look directly into his eyes lest you lock your knees and fall. Lord Viren was handsome, but his composure was more domineering than his looks. He was standing upright in his chair, one hand on his white staff and the other in his lap. From the quality of his grooming and clothes, it was plain to see that he was a no-nonsense gentleman (granted, as a king’s advisor should be). But something was amiss. Paranoid and prepared for rejection, you braced yourself for any sigh of disapproval. And the more you noticed the indifference on his face as you approached, the harder a painful know twisted in your stomach.

Good gods. Your worst fear about matchmaking was going to come to life. Were you here to be matched to a husband, or was this your judgement day?

No one, not even the great Madame Pasha, could save you.

You stopped and stood quietly, waiting for the next steps. Pasha came over and sat in the chair beside Viren. From between the papers in her hand, she pulled out a sketched portrait of you and quickly showed it to Viren, perhaps to confirm it was you. His eyes turned to slits, absorbing the details with a pensive look. You could see his pupils flash back and forth between yourself and the photo. He hummed pensively and turned it away. “A somewhat accurate representation,” he murmured, “though the eyes are a bit exaggerated."

 _Well… Interesting commentary_. You weren’t sure how to react until you saw the mage earn himself a suggestive elbow nudge. You noticed the quick death glare flashing at him, and it almost made you grin. It seemed Pasha would have your back, at least.

And so, the interview phase commenced. Pasha was thankfully the one asking you the questions while the man sat quietly. Some of the questions weren’t out of the ordinary, such as regarding your hobbies, your life, what you’re looking for in a marriage, how you’d handle certain situations, etc. There were but a few that struck you as odd, such as the one in which you had to define a haiku (which you could do with ease), but you paid these things little mind. Viren was paying attention only half the time, and as you spoke, you often caught his eyes going astray to things like the clock and his nails. Despite the disinterest, and thanks to the matchmaker, you were beginning to give less of a damn about him as time went by. Now that your nerves were calming down, you were starting to feel less like a contestant and more like a lady. All would be well, of course, until it came Viren’s turn to ask questions.

“And now, Lord Viren, it is your turn to ask Lady [y/n] any questions that you might have.” Pasha just barely caught Viren shutting his eyes before he quickly returned to posture as if nothing had bored him. “And as always, my lord,” the lady added, words exaggerated, “ _Please remember the rules_.”

You looked to the gentleman, expression growing blank. Likewise, he looked to you, and his stern demeanor returned. Now, his face was turning from indifferent to skeptical, and you weren’t sure why. “Yes,” he stated. “I actually have _one_ question for Lady [y/n] that I’ve been meaning to ask.”

The unpleasant knot in your gut was returning. In an effort not to let your voice crack, you answered him softly. “Ask.”

“Now, my lady, I hope you understand.” Viren shifted in his seat so that he could face you entirely. “From what I’ve seen today, there’s no doubt in my mind that you have a wondrous upbringing. You seem to have everything anyone could want—beauty, intelligence, grace and prestige. There’s nothing more that one could ask from the eldest child of a family as powerful as yours… Unfortunately, that’s all the more reason for me to be concerned.”

Your brow quirked. _Concerned_? Your internal knot was twisting a little harder. You had a feeling this was going in a direction that you _really_ didn’t care for.

“First off, you’re twenty-four years old. Is that correct?”

_… Fucking hell…_

“That is correct, my lord.”

“And from what I’ve heard from Madame Pasha, you’ve neither been married nor matched in the past, nor have you, as the common folk say, ‘dated’ anyone before. Is that also correct?”

You were silent for a moment. “… Yes, my lord.”

_Oh, it was flying in that direction…_

If only Lord Viren possessed a filter. The “concern,” as he called it, came out of his mouth without a second thought. “I’m sure everyone has told you this before, Lady [y/n], but for a girl of aristocracy, you’re immensely out of the ordinary. Almost every Katolian noblewoman I know was already raising _children_ by your age. In fact, you’re the oldest of all the girls that walked in earlier. Even the girls that aren’t yet eighteen have already had at least two boyfriends. That said, there _must_ be a reason why you’re twenty-four years old and don’t have any romantic experience to go by. Is there something you’re not revealing to us? Explain yourself.”

That was it. You may not have won a husband, but you weren’t walking out of here without your dignity. The man intended to belittle, but two could play that game. To hell with all the hours practicing for this day—it was time to be a woman, not a bride.

The abrupt flick and flash of your fan almost made Pasha jump in her seat. Viren cocked his head back in astonishment. Now sultry but cheeky, you placed your hand on your hip and turned away, and the fan almost resembled a barrier between you and Viren. You huffed. “First of all, Lord Viren,” you answered smoothly, “hasn’t your dear mother ever told you not to make comments about a woman’s age?” There was silence for five seconds, but you didn’t bother to look beyond your fan. Had you peeked, you would’ve found sheer bewilderment.

“Well… I have a right to inquire if the woman is a prospective wife. Now stop playing and answer my question.”

Your fan hid your growing smirk. With half-lidded eyes, you fluttered your eyelashes and gazed off to the side. You wouldn’t give the High Mage the pleasure of looking into your orbs. Not yet. “To be frank” you mused calmly, “I’m not quite sure. Perhaps it’s because the boys of my generation never suited my taste.” For your pleasure alone, you tossed a glance at Viren over the edge of your fan. Your heart fluttered delightfully: the man was absolutely lost. You were too flirtatious and polite for him to yell at you, but your decorum was too standoffish for him to intimidate you. How was he supposed to respond?

Viren sat back slowly. “And what kind of boys fit your taste, my lady?”

You indulged him with your gaze, eyes locking with his. You turned your smile back into a frown and shut your fan. “Allow me to correct you. I’ve always been looking for _men_ , not _boys_. That is, unlike the younger and wilder girls, whose tastes are never up to par—the girls that you’ve come to know.”

“I see. _Men_ , then.” His thick brows were shifting slowly while you gazed at him. His mixed expression brought you another euphoric rush. “Then tell me, Lady [y/n]. What is it you’re looking for so desperately in men, and not boys?”

You let out a soft giggle. “It appears you weren’t paying attention to my conversation with Madame Pasha, then.”

 _Callout._ He had no excuse. Viren didn’t say any more. Countenance now blank, all that spoke for him was the shade of pink growing on his face. Unbeknownst to him, Pasha was leaning off to the side, covering her mouth with part of her scarf and trying not to laugh.

You no longer made effort to hide your smug grin. “Any other questions for me, my lord?”

To your shock, he slowly shook his head. “No, my lady.”

“Thank you, Lord Viren.” Pasha now looked twice as bright as when the process began. She wrote a few notes down in her papers before looking back up at you. “Now, Lady [y/n], before we end this, do you have any questions for Lord Viren at this time?”

You’d be sadistic and score one last victory.

Your posture returned to poise, your voice turning sweet again. “Not at all, Madame,” you replied. “I was going to ask whether the High Mage was a man or a boy, but it seems that question has already been answered.”

Contrary to the fears you had earlier, you never felt more like a queen upon walking out of that room.

~ooo~

The toughest part of the match was over, but not the match itself. There was still one more hour of waiting before Lord Viren had to make his final decision and complete the process. Perhaps it would take longer than that, seeing that he was displeased with four girls and embarrassed by the fifth. Perhaps there would be no decision at all, and all of this would be for naught. In the meantime, you and the rest of the girls would have to sit around and wait.

Then Madame Pasha came to you all, and the shocking announcement was made. A bride had been selected.

The unveiling would be done in a manner that was both confidential and ritualistic. Madame Pasha presented five boxes, each assigned to a candidate. As an extra measure of confidentiality, the candidates would be sent to separate rooms to open their boxes. When a candidate opened her box, she would see a rose inside. If the rose was white, then she was not chosen and was free to leave. Only one, the chosen bride, would receive a red rose in her box—she would have to stay behind to meet with her match and become engaged.

Pasha granted each candidate her assigned box. Yours was given last, placed honorably in your hands before her granddaughter Mina escorted you into a spare room.

Once inside, on your own, you sat yourself neatly upon a couch and gazed down at the mysterious box. The other girls must’ve been pissing themselves right now, but not you. Chances are, you likely received a white rose, but it wouldn’t be the end of your world. Your day had already been a victory anyway. Worst case scenario, you’d be placed back in the candidate pool and try again. You could find better matches than Lord Viren, couldn’t you?

Your fingers traced the pretty wooden box, trailing over the carvings until you reached the metal lock. Without so much of a care, you flipped up the lock and opened your box.

Your heart almost stopped beating.

Fingers slowly descended to touch an unfathomable red rose.


	3. Just Deserts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains dub-con elements that some readers may find uncomfortable. If you are sensitive to dub-con, then please skip this chapter.

“Showing a little pity for the 24-year-old spinster, are we?”

Viren didn’t move his expressionless gaze. The castle gardens were small, yet he looked as if fixed on something a thousand miles away. “You should feel honored,” he replied. “Thousands of women would sell their souls to be wearing that ring.”

Your gaze turned down to your hand, and the small diamond flickered in the sunlight. Your eyes rolled. You wouldn’t fall for its beauty, nor would you flaunt it. You’d pretend it wasn’t even there, as if the feeling of the foreign object wasn’t bothering you at all.

“So why me?”

“Would you rather I call off the engagement?”

“It is my duty as a Bartolomus to serve my king and country,” you asserted. “If I am to become the wife of the king’s advisor, then I will proudly do so.”

“Then to demonstrate reverence for your country, my lady, you must demonstrate reverence for your husband.” You no longer heard the end of his staff clicking against the stepping stones. He stopped to look at a tall patch of white lilies, and in turn you kept at his side to observe them as well. You witnessed a handful of butterflies lingering amongst the flowers. Some clung to the petals to collect nectar, their little black bodies dusted yellow with pollen, and a few even folded their wings to sneak inside the flowers that just barely bloomed. It was rather pretty to watch.

“Look around at this magnificent garden. Absorb its beauty and its abundance. Picture this place as Katolis, the glorious country you know today.” Viren’s hand scooped beneath the base of a lily, forcing a butterfly to hop off to the next one. “Notice the flowers that come together to make this garden. Notice their health, their size and their beauty. Notice how the healthiest ones are fertile and provide for all the birds and insects inhabiting this garden. Imagine that I’m one of these flowers, and the wildlife the people of Katolis. I can be strong. I can provide for this kingdom…” Before clarifying, he turned to you. “That’s only if I, myself, am provided for.”

An interesting analogy, you thought. You would’ve pictured him more as a weed than a flower, but you’d let him go on with his monologue. You twisted slowly to face him. “Without a doubt, my lord.”

Viren withdrew his hand from the lily. Both hands clasped the head of his staff as his grayish eyes studied your face, his angular chin still leveled. “Lady [y/n], do you know why these flowers are so healthy?”

Now curious to see where he was going with this, your orbs engaged with his. “They have a gardener who tends to them,” you answered.

The High Mage arched his brows. “It’s because they have everything they _need_.”

_Well, close enough._

“In this garden, the plants have all the necessary elements to thrive. There’s water, sunlight, and a fertile soil with all the minerals and nutrients. Take away any of these supportive elements, and the flowers would wither.”

“And how does this pertain to us?” you asked.

Viren’s voice softened, changing to something more serious. “My lady. I’m lacking something right now. To reach my full potential, I need a new woman at my side. A _mate_. Someone who is strong, dignified, loyal…” His eyelids had suddenly narrowed. He added to the list, volume rising, “And, most importantly, _respectful_.”

As if on cue, your memory replayed the dialogue from the matching day. You knew he was going to bring that up at some point. Even if you were the chosen bride, you still had no regrets about what you said before. And frankly, it would be funny if he were still sore over something so petty as a woman’s rejection. “But of course,” you answered him. “I’ll respect my husband as I would my country.”

“ _Ah_.” Your instincts were correct. By the sudden skeptical glare, it was clear that Viren wouldn’t accept your answer. “In that case, I won’t have to expect any more stunts like the one you pulled in front of Madame Pasha?”

Oh, there was nothing more delicious than this. Was the great High Mage of Katolis still worked up over a mere girl? You cocked your head to feign innocence. “Whatever do you mean?” Your question triggered a low grunt, and my, was it _music to your ears_.

You had to be honest. It was kind of cute to see him get frustrated.

His voice was stern like an official’s. “You had the audacity to speak to me like I was another one of your ‘boys’ that you so disliked. You don’t realize whom you were trying to embarrass, my dear, and frankly you’ve embarrassed yourself.” He placed a hand to his chest, fingers tapping with every sentence he stressed. “I’m the right hand of King Harrow himself. For years I’ve broken my back for Katolis and its people, harder than anyone else has bothered to do in their lifetime. My life’s work has been dedicated to making this realm prosper, and without some of the many sacrifices I’ve made, the country you love wouldn’t be where it is today. After all I’ve done, I do not deserve any dishonor, including that which you’ve delivered to me.”

Any smile you might’ve felt coming on had vanished. You’d be lying to yourself if you thought his tone didn’t make you a little bit nervous. You wanted to scold him then and there for acting so entitled, wanting so badly to call him out, but you kept quiet instead. He was still high in the ranks, and should you cross any boundaries (even the perceived ones), you’d be doing yourself more harm than good.

But your tongue had ceased too late. Lord Viren was too bothered now. He was composing himself again, and his face had turned darker. “Forgive me, Lady [y/n],” he murmured. “You may be my wife to be...”

You gasped quietly, and your shoulders twitched. He’d reached out to you, and his coarse fingers had taken hold of the underside of your chin. He leveled your face so that you wouldn’t move your eyes away, so that you had no choice but to take in the condescending beam of his iron stare.

“But to ensure you remember respect, your act will not go unpunished.”

You could feel your face turning warm, your heart thumping harder. Either he was a master at faking it, or there was a degree of power in him that he could put on display if needed. You were at least glad he was an advisor, not the king.

But you wouldn’t tremble. You wouldn’t give him the pleasure of smelling your anxiety. You stood tall, fighting back his steel-riddled stare with another riddled of fire. “You speak of respect,” you hissed, “yet you dare touch a woman without her permission.”

A moment of silence passed. Viren’s face started to soften over. “Oh, believe me,” he drawled. His gaze was trailing from your eyes, descending progressively. “I’ll give you _my_ respect once I see _yours_.”

You kept still, eyes watching his face carefully. Something was taking you aback. Just then, you felt the digits slowly lightening their grip on your chin. To your astonishment, he didn’t withdraw. Instead, the back of his fingers delicately brushed down your chin, then crept along the side of your neck. Some strange warmth had kept you from backing away—a high that you couldn’t describe, as if you were subconsciously daring him to continue.

He did. All the way until his finger hit the neckline of your dress.

Right then did Viren withdraw. He turned away as if changing back into a different man. Yet again the air was calm, but you were left unsettled. “Come,” he instructed. “There is more I must show you.”

~ooo~

Viren lead you back into the castle for the remaining part of your tour. You were taken down many a magnificent hall, passing by a wide variety of centuries-old armor, artwork and portraits of monarchs past. It was fascinating how much Viren knew about everything you wandered by, and from time to time you found yourself captivated by the stories he told. One of your favorites had to have been about Sir Argmus, a legendary hero whom was said to have saved the life of a Katolian queen by killing three enemies with just one arrow. The tale was probably an urban legend, but it was a Katolian classic nonetheless, hence the life-sized painting of the story hanging in the library.

Finally, your tour brought you up to the High Mage’s study. This was where you’d find your future husband during most of the day, if not anywhere else, so you supposed it was important to see.

Viren unlocked the door and opened it for you, ushering you in first. It was difficult to see without any candles lit in the room, but this was quickly remedied. Behind you, the man had squished something orange in his fist, and you heard him mutter something that was too dismembered to understand. A billow of blazing light zipped past and startled you. You almost fell to your knees, watching the blaze nervously as it jumped around the room to random spots. To your relief, the wild ball had vanished, and you saw a room that was now fully lit with flickering candles.

Viren closed the door behind him and came around you, beaming with pride. “Lovely, isn’t it? This room was just redone over the winter. I picked everything out myself.”

Folding your hands, you looked around the room. “Indeed it is,” you responded softly. The chamber was spacious, and it was certainly not as cluttered as you expected. The first to catch your attention was the plethora of bookshelves covering every wall, each shelf filled with books of magic and history. If you looked closely at these, you’d find written works in various languages, most of which you couldn’t even decipher to save your life. There were a few tables and chairs here, but they were clean of any papers for the most part. The only other pieces that stood out in this room where three things: a massive painting of a young girl with some sheep, a portrait of two men, and a striking oval mirror standing off to the side.

You walked up to the large sheep painting slowly before the other one caught your attention. You turned and looked up to examine it, and what you discovered left you in awe. You instantly recognized two familiar faces: King Harrow and Lord Viren. Wasn’t this supposed to be Harrow’s crown portrait? It was almost unheard of for a king to pose with anybody else for a crown portrait, let alone an advisor. Maybe you could understand why he did it—Harrow was hailed for his kindness and love, and Lord Viren was a close friend. What amazed you most, however, wasn’t the presence of the second person. Rather, as many times as you looked it over, you couldn’t cease noticing the glimmer of happiness in their eyes. _Even in Viren’s._

“The king must cherish you dearly,” you said.

He walked up beside you, and for a moment there was deep silence. “And I cherish him,” he answered.

Glancing over at him, you witnessed a remarkable face come and go like a heartbeat, and for once you could see softness in his eyes. “I don’t doubt it. Many people came to love him the second they met him. I’m delighted to know that I’ll be living here soon. I’ll have the chance to get to know him better, and perhaps we’ll grow a lovely friendship as well.”

Viren looked to you and frowned. The softness vanished, and he turned away with a sigh. “Be warned, my lady. You’ll be in for a shock. The king isn’t a conservative man. His ideals don’t exactly match those of the old Katolian families, especially those regarding relationships with common folk.”

The moment of warmth died, and your cheerless eyes followed him as he made his way to a shelf to push a book back into place. You looked to the other corner of the room, trying to absorb any other interesting décor.

The only thing left to examine was the mirror.

You walked towards it. It was very beautiful, but you didn’t notice anything special about it until you came close and spotted the smaller details. All around its frame were peculiar markings—you couldn’t read them, but you could at least figure them to be magic sigils. But this mirror seemed to function like an ordinary one, at least for the time being. Even the reflection looked normal. Was it supposed to be activated by a magician to create some portal? To see something? To communicate with other magicians? You had no idea.

Lost in your wonder, you failed to notice Viren approaching behind you until he appeared in the reflection. He stood just right behind you, figure towering above yours. “Entranced? I’d tell you more about that mirror if I knew what it did.”

You didn’t move. Your eyes were still fixated on the mysterious design. “It’s beautiful, though. Where did you get this from?”

“ _This_.” His voice was low, face leveling so he could talk beside your ear. “This… was discovered last winter.” He placed his hands lightly upon your shoulders. “It was the Dragon King’s.”

You weren’t sure which was sending that chill down your spine right now: the story he was telling, the tone he was using near your ear, or the sudden fingers on your bare skin. Regardless, your curiosity was drawing you in. You studied the artifact even deeper, gazing at its edges to analyze its craftmanship. Whoever made the mirror had done so with great care. “What would a dragon want with a mirror?” you murmured.

You could hear Viren breathe in deeply before speaking. “That we don’t know. But out of all his possessions, this mirror was kept closest to him.” One of his thumbs had drawn a circle into your skin, but it was still not enough to wake you from your thoughtful daze. “Whatever its purpose or function, it must’ve been of… great importance to him… I think it’s important to discover its secrets, don’t you think?”

You were wrenched out of your thoughts, eyes wide open to the sensations at your sides: Viren’s hands had snuck down to your waist, pulling you firmly against him.

Your cheeks flushed hot red, and you gasped. Before he could do any more, you grunted and pried his hands off you. You spun around to flash him a heated look. “What do you think you’re doing?!” you sneered between your teeth, fists clenching.

Viren stared back, oddly alarmed by your reaction. He suddenly burst into a chuckle.  “[y/n], we’re going to be married in less than a _month_ ,” he said while shaking his head. “It isn’t just some business deal. You realize what else it entails, correct?”

Your face turned a little more red. “I’m not a child! I know what I’m getting myself into!”

He grinned devilishly at your demeanor, scanning you up and down. “You’ve never been with a man before.” The bold words came out less like an educated guess and more like a taunt.

“And why does that matter to you?” Your teeth caught your lip for a second. Living a life without romance didn’t mean you were clueless about these things. Granted, you never did the full act, but you’d done other things with a male once or twice. However, this was a bastard of a different breed—even though you’ve admittedly pondered about sleeping with him (and might’ve entertained it), you had no idea what he was capable of. For all you knew, he’d think himself better in bed than he really was, and your intimate life would be in ruins. Not to mention, as a daughter of aristocracy, your family’s honor was _always_ on the line. The king’s advisor could get away with murder, but you wouldn’t be so lucky.

And with a hum, you were snatched up into avaricious arms. You were too caught off guard to react in time, and you could barely squirm once within his grasp. “Hmph… I was _definitely_ in the right to make your father pay the dowry then.”

Once those words were huffed into your ear, you stopped struggling. Your eyes were somewhere between angry and appalled. You gritted your teeth. “You aren’t supposed to be telling me this.”

The haughty smile against your ear was blood boiling. “Oh, I _will_ ,” he sang, smiling wider when your fingers curled like banther’s claws and dug into his tunic. “It was fair compensation for giving me a bride like _you_. To think your family could’ve spent those extra six years breeding a splendid princess fit for a king…  And you know what else? I made him pay _double_ what he would’ve charged me. But don’t worry about losing the gold: it wouldn’t be a huge sum for a family as rich as yours.”

Oh, how your body shook like an earthquake. How you wanted to rip out that bastard’s brash tongue so that he could no longer spit poison. “Liar,” you rumbled. “My father would _never_ cater to such an insult! Not even from a crown official!” You bore your teeth, trying to hold yourself back from attacking him. What else were you to do if you couldn’t claw his face, bite his ear off or beat him with his own staff? The volcanic eruption was inevitable. You could stand strong to a man’s pathetic bullying, but to meddle with your family was a line never to be crossed. _Never_.

“How could he say no? How could _anyone_ say no to the right hand of King Harrow? It would be an insult to _Katolis_ to back out of it. I wanted to know which you Bartolomuses uphold more: your status, or—”

You’d uphold country. You’d uphold family. _There was one way to do both._

Viren’s brash tongue was cut off—not literally like you wanted, but deliciously nonetheless. You grabbed his head with both hands, wrenching him down hard enough that your teeth clicked when you locked lips with him.

The kiss was furious. _Painful_. The man squealed in shock, but he quickly reciprocated. He’d apparently been roused from infuriating you, humming pleasurably while snogging your lips hard enough to inflame them. His hold had grown tighter, pressing your bodies together, the constricted space of your chest forcing you to exhale harder and louder against his mouth however you could. You’d confess to returning his ecstasy, but remembering your fury, you caught his bottom lip with your teeth, and soon the taste of something earthy on his breath was taken over by iron. In response, his hand wandered into your hair and took hold. With a grunt, he wrenched your heads apart, catching his breath. You could see a spot of crimson between his lips, which he lapped up with a satisfied lick.

“ _Well_ , now.” The look he gave you was sinful. Before you knew it, your jeweled hairpin was caught between two of his fingers. He slipped the pin out in one smooth pull, tossing it to the floor, allowing your style to fall out in a mess. “There is hope for you after all.” You would’ve made a nasty retort if he hadn’t suddenly backed you up and pressed you down upon the table behind you. “Maybe you just need a little… _taming_!”

You growled and shot up, only for your back to meet the tabletop again. Viren allowed some of his weight to fall upon you. Lips were smashed together again. The kissing was just as rough, but hands had gotten more zealous. Your hands clenched and clung to his robes from the back, nails digging hard enough to almost leave snags on the fine printed cloth. You still wanted to maul him like an animal, but you’d be lying to yourself if you said that you didn’t enjoy this, either. He was an asshole, but he possessed the physical traits of a worthy partner—he was solid against you, his shoulders broad, the smell of his cologne intoxicating. You loved it and hated it at the same time. And so, naturally, while your nails kept clenching, your core grew warm beneath his. Without control, a moan escaped your throat.

Viren’s response was _instant_. There was a brief toothy smile against your lips before you could feel the skirt of your gown hitching up over your knees. Now having ease of access between your legs, he shoved his waist in between so he could better hover over you. Hungry kisses crept down your mouth to beneath your chin, then into the crook of your neck. Once or twice, you felt a hot tongue lather your skin feverishly, forcing you to moan again. “Feisty girl,” you felt him grumble into your flesh. “You’ll learn to surrender to me.”

Of course. You still had your family honor to uphold. It was hard now that you were beginning to lose yourself, but you wouldn’t let go of it. You’d oppose him through heavy breaths. “I am… not your trophy.”

Viren blew a hot puff of air close to a chuckle against your currently sweat-beaded skin. “I’m looking forward to seeing how you are on our wedding night.”

What his hand did next made you arch your back and whine. His large hand moved lecherously over the bodice of your gown, at last moving up to hang on the neckline before taking hold of your breast. You could feel your mind swirling with every hard knead and squeeze he delivered. Every heavy breath you took to wrest back control only made your chest rise into the hold and exaggerate its power. At the same time, his heavy kisses, filthy words and hot tongue were pleasurably tormenting the skin of your collarbone.

Oh yes. Now, you were looking forward to the wedding night, too. You wanted to overthrow this seductive, arrogant prick and make him tumble. You wanted to ride him until he was raw, to fuck and be fucked until there was nothing left of his pitiful ass to sit at King Harrow’s side. If Viren was going to rule you hard, then you were going to rule him _harder_. You opened your eyes, irises flashing with wrath and lust. “Here,” you barked. “Let me give you a preview!” You managed to swoop your hands between the two of you. You gripped the golden buckle of Viren’s belt and mingled with it.

Alas, his lustful ministrations paused, and he stopped you by the wrists before you could remove it. “None of that.” He raised himself up from you, frowning. You propped yourself by the elbows and stared at him as to ask him what was up.

Then you saw him getting to his knees. He stared you down with a devious look, all while reaching beneath your dress for your undergarment.

You didn’t know how to feel. Were you to feel shocked, or were you to feel eager for what you thought he was about to do? There had to be trickery to this… However, you felt your guard falling and body trembling when Viren slipped your underwear down your legs and dropped them to the side. Hoisting your legs up onto his shoulders, he made his way up in inches. There were kisses, licks, sucks and bites up your legs. Anticipation skyrocketed when you could no longer see his face beneath your bunched-up skirt, and all you had to rely on were those mind-bending sensations. The strange mirror was across the room reflecting the act dead center, but all you could see was the back of Viren’s head, plus your embarrassingly blushed face.

Frankly, in terms of both pleasure and victory, this idea had to be _much_ better.

His tongue hit one of the lips of your currently swollen labia. You silenced your cry by covering your mouth. The hot, wet feeling sent a shock like lightning all the way up your torso.

Viren would make a fresh meal out of your womanhood. First, he licked the lips of it in smooth, long strokes, causing you to fall back, squirm in place and fight for control over your volume. Next, he placed his mouth on it and slid his wicked tongue inside, and volume became harder to control. As if to encourage you to keep quiet, one of his hands reached out from your skirt and up over your body, his fingers finding their way over your lips (one slipped into your mouth, which you couldn’t help but suck on).

And there you laid on the table, falling into a blissful heated moment of triumph as the royal advisor ate you out. Had he not had his hand occupying your mouth, you would’ve surely groaned commands at him. Though you were too pleasured to hold fast to your anger, you could get off knowing that he was in his place.

_Or so it seemed._

Before you could come close to reaching an orgasm, the oral sensations stopped.

The finger withdrew from your mouth. You opened your eyes again, getting up frantically to see what was going on. You were clueless until you watched Viren standing back up again. He wiped his mouth, and behind he left the most insidious grin.

That was when you realized the trick. Your mouth was dropping wide. No… You were too close to coming. You were stuck in arousal. “Y-you… aren’t finished!” you panted. Viren wasn’t listening to you. You watched him with dread as he retracted into regular composure, fixing his hair in the mirror and smoothing out the wrinkles of his tunic lightly. The pleasant, shit-eating smile wasn’t waning.

“As I said, Lady [y/n]. Your disrespect wouldn’t go unpunished.”

You felt your anger resume. Your limp hands were now becoming tight again. Bloody hell, this power playing _fucker_ …

Viren walked over to the nearby bookshelf where he’d left his staff. He grabbed it, then looked at you when he realized you weren’t moving. “Hmm? What are you doing? You’re a mess, Lady [y/n]. Come on, hurry up and get yourself together. This tour is over, and I have a meeting to get to.” His tone and face were dead serious, but you could just _see_ the wicked smirk still hiding beneath the surface.

You got off the table carefully and picked your underwear and pin from off the floor. You didn’t dare want to look in the mirror, but you had to. And good gods above, he was right—you looked like chaos.

It wouldn’t be today, but he would pay.


	4. Stepchildren

 

No delays. The wedding day was approaching fast—such was the message delivered along with your gown this morning.

The women of the Bartolomus household had already been talking about the marriage like it was a national holiday, but almost as if they couldn’t speak of it enough, the dress ignited their enthusiasm and made their tongues go on nonstop. For the most part, you were already used to it: the servants were already a chittery bunch to begin with. Even in your presence, they’d behave as women would in a salon and pass around the latest gossip. Frankly, you sometimes found them entertaining, and you’d even chime in every so often if you felt inclined to do so. However, your wedding was a personal case, and though you held your tongue more times than not about your fiancé, you couldn’t help but secretly laugh, scoff and roll your eyes at all the things people were saying and thinking. Why indulge in the gossip? You already knew the truth… Not much, but more so than the other Katolian citizens.

“I confess that I’m awfully jealous of our mistress,” sighed Nalaya. The seamstress paused working on the hem of your dress and asked her for a pin. The girl gladly plucked one from the pin cushion in her hand and gave it to her.

Another maid named Yezne set a basket of fresh clothes on top of your bed. She looked over at Nalaya and blinked twice. “Are you saying you want to marry the High Mage, too?” she asked.

“Oh, come on, who _wouldn’t_?” Nalaya was almost dropping her jaw. “Have you _seen_ that man? I went to the crown city last year for the spring festival. When the king was giving his speech, Lord Viren was right next to him, and…” She tipped her head back and blew a wolf whistle.

Yezne snorted and shook her head, reaching into the basket and pulling out a white smock to fold. “You and older men.”

The grinning maid looked to you. “Pardon me, my lady, but do you think Lord Viren would be up for having more than one wife? If so, please put in a good word for—"

Yezne cut her off. “Nalaya! This isn’t Del Bar!” she laughed.

You burst into laughter as well, albeit for another reason. The seamstress beckoned for you to hold still, and you forced yourself to settle. Still, you couldn’t hide away your amused smile. _Hell, if she wanted to take your place, she was more than welcome to…_

“You know, come to think of it, that’s actually kind of a good thing.” Yezne settled down and finished folding the smock. She grabbed another one from the basket. “If polygamy _was_ legal, then he probably wouldn’t have had to divorce his first wife. He’d just get himself a new one and stay happy. He’d be fine, but could you imagine the wives living with each other? Goodness, that would be a bloody cat fight waiting to happen! I don’t know how the men of Del Bar can manage having so many wives and not lose them all to murder.”

Nalaya handed the seamstress another pin. “Speaking of, whatever happened to Lord Viren’s first wife?”

“Oh… From what I’ve heard, she moved back to her hometown like ten years ago. Heaven knows what she’s doing these days. But hey, so long as she isn’t planning to show up at Lady [y/n]’s wedding, I honestly don’t care.”

The other maid turned distressed. “Yezne please! Don’t make Lady [y/n] feel more nervous than she already is!”

She clicked her tongue. “I was only joking. Geez.” Her face turned serious, and she looked over at you. “But regardless, I apologize, my lady.”

You weren’t offended in the slightest. In fact, you were trying your best not to chuckle and blurt out your thoughts. “No worries,” you answered softly. Why would a vengeful ex-wife make you anxious? So long as you wouldn’t be attacked, having your wedding ruined by such chaos would be the greatest thing that happened all year. There was nothing you wouldn’t give to see Viren endure the fury of a woman scorned one last time before the torch was handed to you.

Nalaya was wrong about you, though. Falling deep into thought and reflecting on your feelings, you realized that you weren’t afraid at all. Why was that? For a Katolian noblewoman who upheld loyalty and honor, it was very strange for you not to be afraid of the king’s advisor. Initially, the ruling class dared not associate themselves with anything (or anyone) associated with magic. They’d claim the mystical arts were beneath them, dismissing it as a cheap commoner’s tool to make life easier. The unspoken truth was that they cowered at such unfathomable dark power—in the hands of a man with nothing, magic could be used to turn the tide, to turn kingdoms to ask, and to erase everything that they were or have ever been. But Lord Viren was a problem unlike anything they’d seen before. As both King’s Advisor and High Mage, he was a double threat. What choice would anyone have but to honor him lest they lose the king’s blessing (or, in worst case scenario, be afflicted with an eldritch curse)? Yet despite this terror, you were unaffected. Despite the family pride resting upon your shoulders, you feared no magic, and you feared no man. Was Viren not as threatening as he made himself out to be, or were you becoming too brazen in this arrangement?

“Honestly, though.” Nalaya handed the seamstress one last pin. “It must’ve been horribly sad, how she left him. All by himself with two children… I’m happy for them now, though, because they’ll soon be blessed with a new mother. A beautiful, gracious and loving one, too.”

Your reflection in the mirrors would’ve been breathtaking if you weren’t frowning right now.

_Loving_ … You were trying to be. Your fiancé was a cockwart, but it certainly wouldn’t affect your feelings toward his two children. You’d give them as much love as you would to any new family. Granted, the familial relationship would be awkward at first, considering that both children were just some years younger than you were. Not only that, but you’d also have to be wary of how they felt about a strange woman replacing their mother.

Right now, you weren’t quite sure how easy it was going to be. You only met the two just a week ago, and only once over dinner. Soren, the elder son, was very good to you and didn’t seem to mind it much—in fact, he’d been talking about how a new wife would be good for his father. However, your main concern was for the teenage daughter, Claudia…

That reminded you to check whether the roses were delivered today.

~OOO~

“Hey, can someone get the door for me? Clauds? Dad?”

It took ten seconds and a few more knocks to get Claudia to shift her focus from the book on her table. She’d gotten to the best part of _Love Amongst the Dragons_ , and it just couldn’t wait. “Hang on, Soren! Just… give me a second!” More like five or ten minutes, if she’d been honest.

Soren wasn’t having it. He knocked and called again. “Hurry up! My hands are getting numb!”

Claudia groaned and closed her book. The best part would have to wait. “Are you carrying _bricks_ or something?”

“You know, that would make a really great workout sometime. I need to try that. But right now, I’ve got something nicer.”

Claudia had made her way across the room and opened the door for her brother. Her eyes instantly widened with a glitter, astonished to see a cluster of rich red roses covering her brother’s face. “Woah, now! What are those for?” she gasped.

Soren stepped inside. The mass assortment of flowers was divided into two vases, both of which were fragile and large enough that they required two hands to carry per piece. Soren had an arm curled around each of them, and it was shocking that he managed to get them to the table without breaking them. He set them down with a thud next to Claudia’s book, almost spilling a few drops of water on it before she snatched it out of the way. “These were dropped off in the castle post office this morning,” he said. “Apparently, somebody’s got a real shine towards us.”

Claudia gaped at the roses, lost in awe. She smiled and tilted her head. “Oh, how sweet! They’re so beautiful,” she bubbled. She reached up into one of the gifts to caress the silken bud of a rose, then stuck her nose into its center to catch the fragrance. “Who are these from?”

Soren examined the flowers, rubbing his chin. “Hmm, beats me. There are notes in these things, though.” He reached to the vase beside him and pulled out a small scroll that was tied together with red ribbon.

His sister looked to her vase, brows raising when she spotted the other scroll tied to the base of a rose. With glee she untied the ribbon and pulled it out. She set her book down so that she could unroll the paper with both hands.

Both scrolls carried the same message. Soren read it aloud: “’ _To my future stepdaughter and stepson, Claudia and Soren. With much love, Lady [y/n]._ ’” He rolled his scroll back up, and with a smile he hummed in approval. “Sweet. That’s really nice of her.”

Claudia said nothing.

The big brother set his scroll down and took a sniff of the flowers. He didn’t bother to pay attention to his sister until he heard the repugnant sound of crumbling paper. When his eyes shifted to her, his smile dropped. His voice was uneasy. “ _Clauds_?”

Her scroll, now a crumpled paper ball, was chucked across the room.

The paper ball had ricocheted off a door just before it opened. In walked Lord Viren, carrying his staff in one hand and a glass in the other.

Soren shifted his attention and perked up once again. He grinned a little when he spotted the bizarre green concoction in his father’s glass. “So, how’s that zucchini juice diet going?”

Viren failed to notice his daughter sitting quietly in her chair when he walked past. “Horrible,” he spat bluntly. “It seems no matter how much of this crap I drink, I never get used to the damn taste. I feel like I’m about to throw up.”

Soren frowned. “You should probably stop then.”

“Nonsense.” The father set his glass on his desk. “I need to look absolutely flawless for my big day.” The children’s flowers had captured the corner of his eye. Grimace fading, he ogled them and walked over to the table. “Mother of Xadia. Where did you get all those roses from?”

Claudia finally opened her mouth. “ _Gifts_ ,” she muttered, “from Lady [y/n].”

Viren looked weirdly surprised. “Ah. Well… how thoughtful of her.”

Out of bright little Claudia was coming a side that few had ever seen. A darkness was hanging over her like a storm cloud, and a bitterness was engraved into her eyes. “Tch. No wonder these flowers look so damn expensive. It’s obvious that she’s just trying to butter us up.”

The mage looked down at his daughter and sighed. “I suppose… She’s acknowledging you, at least.”

She huffed and crossed her arms. “Doesn’t matter,” she grumbled. “It still won’t convince me to come to this wedding.”

Viren’s expression slowly turned dour. A deep inhale, and his jaw shifted. “Must we have this talk _again_ , Claudia?” he asked her firmly.

Soren wasn’t normally perceptive. But damn, he just _knew_ what was about to commence. Baffled eyes were going back and forth uncomfortably between the two, and before either of them could continue the son acted as if the tension was setting him on fire. “Oh, heyyyyy, would you look at the time~.” He quickly walked past them towards the doorway, pretending to look shocked at the clock on the wall. “I’m late for… training!” In truth, crownsguard training wasn’t for another two hours, but the door had already opened and slammed shut before anyone could tell him.

It was time to be the irritable father. _Again_.

Viren turned back around and looked Claudia dead in the eyes. “I’m going to tell you the same thing I said yesterday,” he rumbled. “You _are_ coming to my wedding.”

The fury had been triggered. Claudia shot up from her chair, eyes fighting him back. “And I’ll tell _you_ the same thing that I said, too—Why should I be forced to celebrate a marriage that I object to?!”

“Pardon me, but are _you_ the one being married?” He was leaning forward. “No? Then you have no say in it, young lady. It’s mine! Your _father’s_! Have you the audacity not to support your own father?!”

Claudia was in disbelief. “ _S-support_?! I’ll tell you what, Dad.” Her voice was beginning to shake. “I have the ‘audacity’ not to watch my own father make one of the worst mistakes of his entire life!”

“I’m integrating with members of Katolis’ higher class! How is that a mistake?!”

The girl shook her head. “No! Have you lost your mind?! Take a closer look, Dad!” From the way she exclaimed, it felt as though the role of parent and teen child were switching. “These are aristocrats you’re dealing with. You don’t have any business with these guys. Their interest is not in the wellbeing of the kingdom or in helping anybody. They’re only happy because they’re loaded with power and money in their pockets, and they’re going to try and get more at every opportunity. These people are _absolute fucking_ _snobs_. You’ve said it yourself, Dad—you talk about them all the time!”

Viren exhaled heavily, looking away. “What harm can they do me?” he retorted lowly. “I’m different from them, but I hold the most power.”

Claudia pointed at him. “Exactly!” she exclaimed. “You’re their prime target! You have what they want! That’s why so many of them have been throwing all their dolled-up daughters at you—they’re trying to get on your good side. Once they’re close enough to you, they’ll wrench it away, and they’ll eat you alive!”

When Viren felt his confidence return, he returned his eyes to Claudia. “Do you think me an idiot? I know damn well what the Bartolomus family is trying to do. But you know I’d never fall for their flattery. It is _they_ who put themselves in a vulnerable position.”

Her hand fell to her side. Her fair face was currently reflecting her desperation. “Then what are you trying to get out of this?” she probed. Viren could hear the disgust growing inside her tone. “What about this new wife you’re picking? Lady [y/n]?... Her parents must’ve forced her into it. There’s no way she’d feel okay with marrying you. You realize that she’s only eight years older than me, right Dad? Eight years! She’s young enough to be my sister! You don’t think there’s anything wrong with that?!”

Viren’s face was contorted, looking offended but defensive. Did he want to debate on which accusation was true? “C-Claudia, she’s an adult,” was all he could assert. The face she made was burning through him.

“… You wouldn’t make _me_ marry a man your age, would you?”

Silence passed. So did a red moment.

Even though it sent Claudia out of that room in storming thoughts and welling tears, Viren would suppress his shame in telling her the truth.

“ _Only if it was for our own good_.”


	5. The Garden

 

Viren was right. Katolis was the garden of the realm. Amongst the five kingdoms, she was the dancing maiden. She was prosperous, rich and full of life. Her hills and forests were the green silk of her gown, her rivers and seas her sapphire jewels. Her sons were sturdy trees, and her daughters were wild flowers. And she thrived, because she had everything she needed. Her people were in symbiosis. Everyone knew their place, and everyone took it with pride.

Katolis called your name. Her message rode upon the rays of the rising sun. It was time for you to take your place. Today, that place was at the altar.

You could never recall a moment in your life that made you want to tremble. From the moment you walked down the aisle, everything was so sacred, delicate, fragile. Yet everything bore so much weight—the veil over your head, the vows on your lips, the ring slipped onto your finger. All of this for a lifetime with the most unlikely of men, your nemesis for not even two moons, now suddenly turned into your other half. By Katolis’ will, it would be done. The two souls would be recognized as one flesh. Could you uphold this sacred undertaking? Would the gods above understand your case, or would they hold you firmly to the words you were exchanging before them?

_Or was Katolis their newborn goddess?_

At last, the priest joined your hands together. While you looked at one another, he raised his palms upward, and his declaration echoed through the cathedral: “Let us acknowledge those whom the Gods have joined together on this day. By the powers bestowed upon me, I pronounce you husband and wife. I ask that you now seal your union with a kiss.”

You took up the role that Katolis assigned to you, the duty that rested upon Lord Viren’s lips.

It was done.

~OOO~

The wedding feast was held inside Katolis Castle a few hours later. For a hall as large as Harrow’s, it was easy to fill within a matter of minutes. Your senses were filled with all the essentials for a jubilant celebration. A band of bards played beautifully upbeat songs while men and women swept across the center floor, capes and dresses flowing with every color. The fresh smell of baked goods, roasted chicken and wild boar filled your nose. Servants passed around tables with pitchers full of the finest vintage wines. So many familiar voices talking, laughing and shouting reminded you that you were in the company of friends and family. All around you, there was happiness (for the most part), and for that you were pleased.

You and Viren were seated beside each other at the main banquet table, overlooking the feast. There was only a bit of time for small talk, thanks to the many attendees coming forth to congratulate the two of you. That was a good thing, in a way. The friendly faces would give you some time to breathe before you had to reflect deeply upon your new husband. Starting at the end of this celebration, there would be a hell of a time adjusting to your new life. You knew it was coming, but there was no way to prepare yourself beforehand. You didn’t need to worry about it right now, though. _Not yet._

Then the last person, your cousin Lady Pippea walked away from the table. Viren had some time to slip a few words into your ear. “You haven’t touched anything on your plate, dear wife.”

_Wife_ … You would’ve had to adjust sooner or later. “No worries, _husband_. I will eat.” You glanced down at your still-full plate. Almost everyone was already on their second helpings, but you were far too taken by the day’s events to have an appetite.

“Well, hurry. Your food is getting cold.” He took his goblet and had another sip of wine.

That was a bit peeving. You weren’t a child. “I can care for myself,” you asserted. “I’ll eat when I feel inclined.”

Viren raised a brow at you. “What? Is a husband not allowed to care for his wife? We’ve had a long day. I don’t want you fainting.”

You suppressed a snort by taking a sip of your wine. _Care about his wife_ your arse. Since when did this arrogant fool grow a soft spot for you?

“By the way, where have Soren and Claudia gone off to?”

Neither of the teens were sitting at the table. Your eyes quickly scanned the merry crowd for their faces, but no luck. Your ears then picked up on a burst of laughter amongst the noise of the party, and your attention went to the righthand corner of the hall. Being tended to by the wine bearers was a group of young men drinking and gabbing amongst each other. After watching closely, you spotted Soren sitting in the midst of the mix, cheerful face blotted over with a developing drunken blush.

There was one. But where was Claudia? You ignored Soren for a moment and scanned the crowd again. You glanced at every possible location—the pastry buffet, the dance floor, every group of young ladies, and even the king’s table. Alas, there was no sign of the raven-haired girl. Had she vanished due to some emergency? Had she gone off to the toilet? No, she’d been gone for too long for that. You looked around at the room a second time, then a third. For a moment, you could feel your heart sinking, and the room didn’t feel so bright.

Something felt wrong. You were about to get up from your seat to go find her. Suddenly, you witnessed King Harrow approaching your side, and you were compelled to stay put. You smiled pleasantly, hiding away your concern for the time being.

Both of you stood and went to greet him. Harrow first came up to Viren with a handshake and a pat on the shoulder. “Enjoying this wonderful night, you two?”

Viren looked thrilled, returning the brotherly gesture. “Absolutely, your majesty. None of this could’ve been possible without you. How blessed are we to have the king hosting our wedding feast?”

“This is nothing,” the king responded, turning his attention to you. He looked at you with his wide smile and glittering dark eyes, and things suddenly felt brighter again. “I could never do enough to repay you two, or your families.” He took your hand and brought it up to his lips, planting an honorable kiss on your knuckle.

Your smile was genuine now. “You’re as generous as they say you are, my king.”

Indeed, Harrow was. From the very second you met him face-to-face, every good word proved true. One would’ve been wary of a powerful man who behaved righteously, for more times than not, his goods deeds were just for show. Harrow was different, though, and anyone could see it right away. His eyes were as transparent as glass—nothing hidden, nothing obscured. Everything you saw in him was nothing short of shining love, and the golden light poured out of him for all to see and feel. Truthfully, it shocked you to discover that Harrow and Viren were close friends, for you thought the friendly king would’ve preferred better company. Was Viren always this courtly when he was around? He almost turned into a different person, and you never knew what to make of it. Was the advisor somehow influenced by his warmth, or was there something else brewing beneath the surface?

If the latter was the case, then Harrow was his fool.

“I do what I can,” he replied. “I still have plenty more to give you.”

You were curious. “Oh?”

Harrow folded his hands. “Well, if I may do so right now, I’m eager to introduce you to someone very special, Lady [y/n]. My gift for the bride.” Intrigued, you watched Harrow turn around and look to someone standing beside a pillar. He stretched his hand out. " _Approche, ma chérie_."

The individual did as was told. You found yourself charmed by the sight of a preadolescent girl sauntering gracefully over to Harrow. She curtsied and earned a bow in return. Harrow placed his arm gently around the girl. " _Voici ta nouvelle maîtresse, ma chérie_ ,” he told her warmly. “ _Dame [y/n], Première Fille des Bartolomus. La nouvelle femme de mon conseiller_.” He turned back to you and switched to common tongue. “I figured you’d need a new handmaid if you were going to be living here, my lady. This is Charlotte, the girl I’ve chosen for the duty.”

The girl’s large blue eyes turned up to you. For a moment, Charlotte looked as wonderstruck as you were. Bowing her head, she descended into a curtsy, her long golden braid falling over her shoulder. “A pleasure to meet you at last, my lady.” Her timid voice had a slight foreign accent. By the language, accent and dress, you quickly deduced her to be Collinian.

You smiled down at her and curtsied. “ _Tout le plaisir est pour moi_.”

Sweet Xadia, Charlotte’s face lit up like the sun. Viren shot you a puzzled look. “You speak Collinian?”

“There’s a large community of people in our town who migrated from Collines. I studied their tongue for over ten years in school.”

“Wonderful,” Harrow responded. “Then you two are a perfect match. Charlotte is a lovely girl and very devoted to her job. You’ll grow quite fond of—" The king stopped himself when all four of you heard a high shriek from the other side of the room.

Your heart jumped. Across the dance floor at a banquet table was your cousin Lady Pippea, eyes nearly popping out of the sockets at something frightening on her plate—of all things, a stubby glow toad trying to devour a jelly tart.

Your mouth dropped. You couldn’t fathom it. How in gods’ name did a _glow toad_ find its way into a place like this? Then you saw the young Prince Ezran rushing towards the table, and you had an inkling that he was responsible for the random creature. By the time the boy reached for the toad, it was already too late: in a spasmodic panic, the woman smacked the thing off her plate like a ball, sending it flying into the middle of the floor. The toad scurried around in a desperate attempt to avoid the feet of dancing couples, and you could see its skin changing from buttercup yellow to bright green. Ezran continued to pursue it, however, running around dodging dancers in the process. Right before a couple could crush the toad, the prince dove over and shielded it beneath a turtle shell position. The animal was safe, but not the humans—the unfortunate couple tripped over Ezran and fell to his other side, knocking over another couple that happened to be twirling by.

There Ezran sat amongst the chaos, cradling the currently traumatized glow toad. The little thing was safe now (albeit at the expense of a jelly tart and a few sprained ankles). The child was relieved, but the glaring, arm-crossed father hovering above him wasn’t thrilled in the slightest. Ezran looked up, and all he could do was smile nervously.

“I told you not to bring Bait” was the last thing you heard Harrow scold before he and Ezran exited the feast hall with Charlotte following behind.

Brushing off that brief fiasco, you and your husband went back to your seats. Viren sighed and adjusted his collar. “Hopefully this feast will end soon,” he murmured. “I can only stand large crowds for so long.”

You weren’t paying attention to what he said. Now that some people had moved out of your view of the balcony doorway, you were too busy fixating on what was going on outside in the night.

You finally found Claudia. And to your relief, she was not alone. Prince Callum was at her side, engaging with her in what seemed like a deep conversation.

For the first time, you saw her smile.

~OOO~

The night sky was mesmerizing to watch from the castle. The windows of the bedchamber would give you a perfect view of where the sun would set every night, and where millions of stars would take the sun’s place soon after. If neither was present, then you’d at least get to view the green mountains in the horizon.

Right now, the hills and starry sky were helping you stay calm on this unpredictable wedding night. You took a moment to gaze out the window, deep in thought as the cool night breeze caressed your face and shoulders. You’d taken off your jewelry, but you hadn’t changed out of your wedding dress yet.

Meanwhile, Viren had already removed his white robes and tossed them on a chair. He was stripped down to his white undershirt and black trousers when he noticed you over at the window. “Will you close that? It’s getting cold in here.”

You didn’t say a word. You slowly retracted back inside, closing the glass panels shut and sliding the lock.

For a moment, everything was eerily quiet. You didn’t move from that spot, but you could sense Viren observing you like a hawk. Then, after a while, you felt the thumping of his footsteps coming closer, and you knew it was time.

“Listen. [y/n]… Can I call you that now?” You felt the air of a heavy sigh brush over the top of your head. “I understand that we’ve had a… difficult start… Alright. A _horrible_ start. There were many arguments, many misunderstandings, and it was a complete mess.”

Oh, heavens. Off he was going with his bullshitting silver tongue again. You would bet on the king’s crown that he’d been practicing this little speech many times until now. There were no “misunderstandings”—that was clearly a way for him to deny his faults. You would’ve interrupted him and called him out, but you weren’t in the mood for another quarrel. No, let him continue his pretty persuasions. You’d listen.

“However, that’s all in the past now,” he continued softly. “I’m willing to put that behind us and move on. After tossing my judgement aside, I’ve remembered that we share many qualities. Most importantly, I see that you’re just as passionate about your king as I am. You and his majesty interact well, and I can see a strong friendship developing between you two in the future. He embraces those who demonstrate loyalty to the kingdom.

“If that’s the case, then it’s undoubtedly reasonable for _us_ to be friends, too.”

One hand planted on your shoulder, and another moved delicately beneath your chin. Your face was gently guided so that you were looking into docile eyes. “Please,” he begged. “Will you not call me your friend?” He must’ve been practicing _very_ hard to pull off that face. That, or he was being…

“Friends are not bound by a contract, my lord,” you responded calmly. “We are _married_.”

Viren nodded his head once, slowly. “That is true. Even so, there’s more to marriage than a contract. There must be a personal bond between spouses. In case you don’t remember, all of that was in our vows, my dear.”

You were holding fast to your guard up until now. Naturally you were still wary, but would withholding your trust make your situation any better? You took a deep breath. Closing your eyes, you gently removed his hand from your chin. “Very well. I will call you both my husband and my friend. And by what you’ve stated in your vows, I’ll expect _you_ to do the same.”

The man hummed pensively. “So you doubt me,” he mused. “It’s alright. I’ll prove myself to you in time.”

You could’ve sworn the atmosphere was getting warmer right before his hands took you by surprise. He gripped the sides of your waist, pulling you flush against him. To you, it was like a wild flashback. You were instantly reminded of that raging occurrence in his study weeks ago, of the way he touched you right before he vexed you into a fury and turned you to a mess. Breath jamming, you tensed your muscles, awaiting whatever it was he intended to do. It was a brash move for him to make if he was craving friendship out of you. Apparently, that wasn’t the case. Lowering his lips to your ear, just as he did before, he spoke to you in a suggestive voice. “But we have to address _something else_ tonight.”

Then, your body was turned around vigorously; you didn’t expect to be right at face level with a fairly exposed chest. Let alone something a bit too aesthetically _pleasing_. Like his moving speech, the faint crest of hair over a modest bit of muscle was encouraging you not to protest. Instead you were left gaping, speechless and with embarrassingly reddening cheeks.

So, what did the rest of him look like?...

_No, no, no_. Your glaring eyes burned through your rosy visage. You knew better from last time. “Are… are you going to torment me again?” You were trying to spit a hiss, but what came out was a shaky whine. “That’s not going to help you prove yourself!”

Showing your teeth was no use. Viren could easily see his effect on you. The shark had smelled blood, and he was going to come at full speed. You watched the devil slowly coming out of him. Lips expanded into a grin that spelled trouble. To your misfortune, your sense of touch had somehow heightened before his hands squeezed your hips and his beard tickled your cheek when he came to talk in your ear again. Apparently, _all_ your senses were heightened, as from him being so close you couldn’t ignore the intoxicating, clean scent of gardenia and myrrh. You held still in his clutch—the heat of your face was descending to your shoulders. _He had you now._

Viren’s shush almost sounded indecent. “Nonsense, dear wife. This moment is a right of passage for us. I’ve been looking forward to this…” He tugged your hips closer as a suggestive expression. “And I know that _you_ have, too.”

The gesture had forced the heat down to your core. Subconsciously, you began to fixate on that present feeling of your trunk against his own, and your imagination briefly flashed you something that made the heat linger there and grow. His guilty hands told you that your imagination was about to manifest into reality. One hand now reached lower down the side of your body, tightly gripping the fabric of your gown as if coaxing to pull it off. The other crept around you, up your back, stealthily making its way to where the lace was tied.

This was dark magic of another kind. You could no longer fight the heat he created in you. Your aggression didn’t wane, but your desire was too strong not to tend to. You physically wanted Viren. There was no way around it.

He planted his first kiss on your ear. When he saw you close your eyes and shiver, he chuckled. “Interesting. I would’ve expected a bit more fight out of you.” The last half of his sentence had been muffled by him moving his face into the crook of your neck. There, he administered soft, wet kisses.

_Fight_ … You were sighing thoughtlessly until the word reminded you of something. Your attention was halfway between his lips and the cold numbness against your thigh.

At last, the pivotal moment. Viren helped himself to the lace of your dress. In one smooth pull, the tie came undone. Fingers skillfully laced and tugged down the crosses of the silken ribbon, and you soon felt the gown loosening its grip on your body. Hold it up you did not: you compliantly let your arms hang at your sides so that it could easily droop off your shoulders. Without any hesitation, he finished off the job and peeled the dress down.

To Viren’s astonishment, you had no undergarments on beneath your wedding dress, save a silk garter on your thigh. He failed to notice what was attached to the garter, too allured by your exposed flesh. Gaze went straight to your breasts, and his brows lifted. “Oh. _Beautiful_.” He cupped your face and pulled you in for a deep kiss.

Now was the perfect opportunity. The mage was busy with kissing you passionately while his touch descended along your skin to both breasts. Covetously he squeezed the flesh in pulses—it was a delicious feeling, but you couldn’t fall distracted. You reached down stealthily and pulled out whatever was attached to your garter. With his hands at perfect level, you could take a hold of both wrists with ease. His reaction was instant: he hastily pulled out of the kiss and looked down…

Handcuffs.

Your startled husband gave you wide eyes. He opened his mouth, but any words he had would’ve been knocked out as yelps as he was taken and pushed with force. He tumbled onto the bed behind him, landing flush on his back. You were already mounted on him before he could attempt to get up. He tried to sit up once, but you forced him back down via pinning his bound hands over his head. Your face but inches from his, you stared him down like a hungry feline, and all he could do was stare back helplessly. Surprisingly, he neither fought your hold nor struggled against his cuffs, and you were almost certain you saw his cheeks turning pink.

“You’re not carrying a blade on you, too, are you?”

Did he think this was an assassination attempt? You tilted your head slightly, burning eyes locked on him. “I only need to make sure you don’t pull any more tricks,” you hissed.

Viren continued to watch you. Your gaze slowly descended along his form, studying every inch of him like sweet prey. Your interest went to his chest again—it was rising and falling noticeably, now that he was worked up. Fingers planted themselves on his pectorals, and they slowly smoothed over the cotton cloth that still covered them. You could tell the rest of him was just as solid as he appeared, but you wouldn’t be convinced until you saw the rest. Gripping at the edges of his shirt, you didn’t give a second thought about ruining it: you tugged and yanked, and the shirt _ripped_ down the center line. Viren looked a bit horrified. It was probably an expensive shirt, but you didn’t care (he could always buy another one, right?).

Up and down, fingers continued exploring, this time caressing flesh instead of cotton. With every stroke, you fell more into lust with what you saw. For a man his age, it was uncommon to have such a toned physique. He wasn’t overly muscular, but he wasn’t a skinny one either. Then again, considering his abilities, there was no guarantee that he didn’t keep it up without the help of some magic. Regardless, it fell real. Very real, and _very_ fuckable.

Did he use magic in other places, too? This is what you wondered as you reflected on the hard bulge growing inside his pants underneath you.

You suddenly caught Viren smirking, and you felt the need to assert yourself again. You lowered yourself upon your husband, then delivered a bite straight to the base of his neck. He grunted from the pain, but he chuckled afterwards.

“I’ve always liked them feisty.”

The tables turned. Though his wrists were bound, your position allowed him to swiftly loop his arms around your form. Gripped into an unbreakable hold, you were thrown off and flipped over. When your vision stopped streamlining, you discovered yourself in Viren’s place. He wanted to take his turn with you.

You shot him a death glare, growling at him with exposed teeth until he took hold of your mouth again. He nuzzled his hips between your legs and kissed you vigorously, trying to consume you as best as he could. The strife made you wetter, your breaths turning to growls, moans and sighs. You’d fight back for your position on top, but your need for him to consummate with you felt more important. Sweet Xadia, you needed this cunning bastard of a husband inside of you, and soon.

You took matters into your hands. Sneaking your arms in between your bodies, you worked desperately at the front lace of his trousers like your life depended on it. Finally, when they were open and loose, you tugged them down, using both hands and feet to get the pants and everything else down to his thighs.

Things had gone down.

 But not in a figurative sense.

His manhood was pressing against you, but it felt… _soft_?

The two of you paused all activity. Viren raised himself slightly, and you both looked down in a silent daze of awkwardness. You were simply disordered, but your husband was looking at it visibly worse than you were. _What was going on,_ you wanted to ask.

Viren bit his lips. He snarled under his breath. “Ugh, _shit_.”

Now, you were feeling less aroused and more concerned. You weren’t sure what to say or ask. Your eyebrows furrowed as you watch him sit up slowly. “Fuck, fuck, I’m really sorry,” he grumbled. “I can’t believe this is happening _right fucking now_ of all _fucking_ times.” He bore disgruntled teeth down at himself. His hands combed over his messed hair, chains rattling gently.

“What’s wrong?” You propped yourself by your elbows.

With a hefty sigh, Viren’s hands came down over his face and fell into his lap. “It’s… Fuck, I’m not sure.” He grumbled and looked off to the side, trying desperately to look for an answer.

A knot formed in the pit of your stomach. “… It isn’t me, is it?”

Viren shook his head. “No, it isn’t you,” he replied. “Sometimes it just… happens when I have a few drinks…”

You took a breath. Made sense, in a way. You saw him drinking a few cups of wine earlier tonight at the feast. You didn’t know that could happen to a man. Could it?

Viren looked back to you. “This is an awful inconvenience. If you still wish for pleasure, I can still give it to you. Perhaps you’d prefer me to eat you out like before?”

You could’ve demanded it as compensation for last time. However, you were in no mood to be unfair to him. It wasn’t the best time, anyways. “I’ll be alright,” you answered, shaking your head. “Maybe we both just need rest.”

Frankly, it was an uneventful way to end a wedding night. You didn’t mind it, though—It wasn’t like you two didn’t have tomorrow to try again, or the rest of your lives for that matter. Your energy spent, you unleashed a big sigh and flopped back down onto the bed. You puckered your lips and blew off any stray hairs dangling in front of your face. Meanwhile, Viren carefully pulled his trousers back up and took a seat on the edge of the bed beside you.

“Would you mind unlocking these, by the way? They’re hurting my wrists a bit.”

His question made your eyes shoot back open. A lump formed in your throat when you realized the keys were not attached to your garter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thanks goes to @wonderland-berries on tumblr for helping me translate some of the character dialogue into French (which is called Collinian in this story).


	6. The Mirror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the wait, everyone. Real life stuff kept popping up, so this chapter got severely delayed. Plus this was a long chapter.
> 
> But hey, Aaravos finally appears, guys! Enjoy.

 

You adjusted to your new life much quicker than expected. Within a few days’ time, the castle hardly felt any different from the Bartolomus estate. The greatest change was having a new plethora of duties, both as a wife and as a noble lady in Harrow’s court. Being married to the king’s greatest advisor meant having charge of his domain and all who served him; while he had to be the leader of politics and magic, you had to be the leader of these walls themselves. Nevertheless, your mother had prepared you well, and for that you had exceeded the expectations. In this castle you were highly esteemed, as was your family name.

Not even Viren made your life change so drastically. In some circumstances it was nice, but other times you wish it didn’t feel that way. He wouldn’t be around you for most of an ordinary work day: an aspect of life which was very much expected from an important gentleman. He’d awaken a few hours before you did and head off to his duties, not to return to his quarters until around suppertime (or on some occasions, a few hours after). The only time of day you were guaranteed to see your husband was after twilight, when the two of you could settle together either in the reading room or in your bedchamber. You would’ve thought the late nights to be perfect opportunities for heavy intimacy, but they were disappointingly the exact opposite: by the time night fell, Viren was already too exhausted (both mentally and physically) for sex.

You were dismayed. You thought the honeymoon phase would’ve kicked off after the wedding and have compelled you two to shag like rabbits every night in bed for gods knew how long. Viren didn’t seem to be under the effect, but you were there without question. Since the wedding night, your desire for him had grown. As he promised, he’d become less of an idiot towards you (but still an idiot, nonetheless), and now your attention was trailing off to features you couldn’t focus on before, from the grace by which he carried himself to the chiseling of his face. And lord, the countless times you came into your private room and found him undressing or coming out from the bath didn’t help you, either—you hated to admit it, but he was unquestionably a fine specimen in the nude. Viren was an egotistical bastard but a provoking mate, and for that you wanted to ensnare him into your embrace and dominate him in delicious ways. Several times you’ve tried, flirting with him on a daily basis, sneaking in suggestions, but nothing would go anywhere past a kiss.

Today would be different, though. Your husband was finally gifted a half day of work and would thus return early. That meant no exhaustion. _That meant the perfect time to seduce._

~OOO~

Noontime came around. Having finished your daily errands, you decided on a small trip into the city before suppertime. Charlotte happily agreed to accompany you; though you were both new to the capital, she knew the municipal areas better than you did. You inquired her about the shops, and she recommended several in said area, all of which hooked your interest. A servant was sent to have a carriage ready while you changed into traveling dress. When ready, you grabbed your cloak and purse, and you made your way down the vast halls with Charlotte at your side.

You passed the mail room along the way, reminding your handmaid to ask you. “Has your family written back to you yet, _Madame_?”

“Not yet,” you sighed, a frown tainting your lips after glancing back at the entrance. You were there earlier this morning, and the day before, but your box was empty. Since moving into the castle, you’d been writing back and forth with your parents, both as per their request and your loneliness for them. Messages had been given and received almost on a daily basis—plenty of work for the messenger crows, but it kept you content while getting the boy at the counter closer to earning that coveted Crow Master promotion. It felt unusual—worrisome, almost—to not have anything by now. Perhaps their letter was simply late and would come tomorrow? It still left you uneasy, but you wouldn’t let it run your entire day. Things were otherwise well, and you planned to keep it that way (if not make it better).

The messages slipped into the back of your mind when you recognized the rising echoes of two familiar voices from around the corner. With the speakers presumably coming in your direction, the conversation grew loud and clear enough for your ears to catch a snippet of their rather interesting argument.

“So, you’d ask me to require that all Katolian soldiers ingest some potion that they could have serious reactions to?”

“Not reactions, your majesty. Just nightmares. The spell hasn’t been known to put physical health in danger. If anything, it ought to do the complete opposite.”

“Doesn’t matter. The soldiers’ quality of life would still be reduced. Would _you_ want to be forced to have horribly dreams every night so that you can be allowed to do your job?”

“If it meant that I’d be a healthier person, heal faster and be able to serve my country without risk of death or injury, then yes.”

“It’s still too unethical. I won’t do it.”

“But think of the lives that could be saved!”

You needed not even look around the corner before speaking. “Is my husband trying to sell you dangerous magic tricks again, your majesty?” you echoed. You and Charlotte approached the intersection of halls and turned to face Harrow and Viren. Both gentlemen turned from each other and spotted you with surprise. You first acknowledged Harrow with a brief smile and a curtsy, but your glance went to Viren immediately after. Of course, your heart made a little jump in your chest from the sight of him, and you could feel yourself flashing a foxish smile. As if he immediately recognized what you were doing, he covered up boyish intrigue with a pouty look.

“Ah, good afternoon Lady [y/n].” Harrow’s face perked up. “And _ma chère Charlotte._ _Comment ça va_?”

The blonde handmaid smiled cheerily. “ _Bien, merci_. _Et vous?”_

To Harrow’s mild embarrassment, there was a stomach growl before he could speak. “ _Faim_ ,” he responded before chucking with Charlotte.

“Where are you ladies off to?” asked Viren, still serious and composed.

“Charlotte and I are going to do some shopping. We won’t be gone for long. Would you like us to find you or the children anything while we’re out?”

“We should be good. Thank you.”

Stern old man. You were feeling all too kittenish to leave Viren then and there without provoking him just a little more. It was somewhat out of the blue, and Harrow and Charlotte were standing right there, but that only made it more entertaining. “I see.” You turned as if ready to leave, but you were still giving him witty eyes. “I suppose I’ll have to _surprise_ you then.”

Viren raised his brow, but his composure stayed solid. “Well, thank you.”

You nodded. “We’ll see you at dinner,” you dismissed softly before starting back on your way with your handmaid. You made it sound like that was all, but the provoking was far from over. You waited for the men to continue their way down the hall by a few steps, then stopped abruptly to spin around. “Oh, and _husband_ ,” you called. “One last thing?”

Viren paused in his tracks. His staff tapped against the carpet as he turned to you, giving you the _“Yes wife?”_ eyebrows as you strode to him. He expected you to speak aloud to him, but he eyed you in astonishment when you placed a hand on his shoulder, stood on your toes and brought your face close to his ear.

_“Behave yourself, husband… Listen to the king, and I won’t use the handcuffs again tonight.”_

You first heard a gulp. The High Mage was too taken aback to mind his own volume when he opened his mouth and dropped a stammer. “ _T-tonight?!_ ”

Oh, you little minx. You said nothing more. The only answer he got from you was one last bat of your lashes before you sauntered away from him. He was left standing there for a moment, processing your words, watching you merrily move along with your handmaid down the hall. The aftermath of your sweet, vivacious triumph could be heard even from yards away, and you _savored every word_.

“Whoah, why are your cheeks turning so red?”

“Hngh. I’m… fine… It’s just a little warm in here.”

~OOO~

“You seem to know the king very well,” you finally said, jumping a little when the carriage hit a bump in the road.

Charlotte was carefully picking off a small speck on her cloak but looked up at you. In response to your observation, she smiled fondly and nodded. “I do, _Madame_ ,” she said softly, blue eyes turning remarkably tender. “His Majesty is very dear to my heart.”

You shared the same smile. “He deserves everyone’s heart. He’s a kind man.”

“Indeed… But that is not the only reason why.”

“Oh?... Why else?” you asked, tilting your head. You watched your handmaid in concern as her smile gradually faded, eyes turning downward during a moment of silence. Having gotten used to all her smiles and laughter over the weeks, it was almost unsettling for you to see the girl while she was anything but cheerful.

When she found the words to say, Charlotte looked up at you again. This time, her face was solemn. “Perhaps he hasn’t told you, _Madame_. I was a rescue.”

You were quiet for a second, only looking at her. Something was twisting in the pit of your stomach. Though you were nervous to do so, you asked her anyways. “What happened?”

The girl was leaning forward a little. “Well… Surely, you must know about what happened in my homeland?”

Right away, you were filling up with dread. You assumed she was referring to the Collinian hostage crisis of this year: how could _anyone_ in the kingdom not have heard about such a horror? There were many incidents scattered across Katolian history, but after seeing the most recent one happening in your era, nothing struck you harder.

Collines willingly became part of the kingdom of Katolis almost fifty years ago, but that didn’t stop anti-Katolian groups from forming after the integration. Such groups didn’t become a major threat, until one particular group finally took matters into its own hands and implemented a most savage crime—capturing innocent civilians from a village, both Katolians and Collinians, and holding them hostage to bargain for their state’s independence. King Harrow was the one to deal with the panic, for he was the prime target and thus the deciding factor for the fate of the hostages. With fearful compliance not being an option, he had countless members arrested in a matter of hours. The men were fiercely questioned about the location of the hostages, but none would break their silence until their desires were met. With days passing and countless lives on the line, Harrow frantically organized an intensive search for the hostages. Katolian forces eventually succeeded and discovered the people in a closed-off cave, but out of the fifty people imprisoned, only seven had survived.

And to your disbelief, the young girl sitting at your side was one of the seven survivors. It was one thing to hear the tale objectively from word of mouth and paper sources, but to hear it from the lips of a witness added so much more. As you rode toward the city, dear Charlotte told her story.

“I was living in the village of Cygne with my grandmother when it all happened. In Collines, there were always rumors about people who wanted to rebel against the king, but we found it ridiculous and ignored them. Then one day, when we were at home, a large group of armed men raided our village, and they started capturing people.

“My grandmother and I were so terrified… We hid under a bed together, but it was no use. A few of the rebels burst down our door… They found us both, bound our wrists, and dragged us out of our house.

“Once everyone was gathered outside, they ordered us to start marching out of our village. We didn’t know where we were going or whether these strangers would kill us. All we knew was that if we tried to escape, we would surely die. I remember a man ahead of us trying to run away. The rebels caught him, and he was quickly impaled by a sword.

“Then the nightmare happened… They forced us into a cave somewhere deep in a forest. When everyone was inside, they closed the entrance with a boulder. For the next few days, that was the last time I saw light. From then onward, it felt like I was imprisoned in Hell—The only things I could sense were the coldness of the prison and the desperate cries of men, women and children.

“I managed to find my grandmother by her voice. We sat down and prayed together endlessly. We didn’t know for how long it would last, but we tried hard not to focus on time. To keep our sanity, we tried to focus on hope… But hope wouldn’t save our bodies. Without any water, we grew thirsty very quickly. We tried searching around the cave but found nothing to drink, not even a puddle, so our thirst kept growing… This went on for nearly a week, from what I was told. That was how most of us died. My weakness came to a point where I could no longer pray, and the anguish was so great that I couldn’t even speak. My grandmother couldn’t either, and I was almost certain that she was dead…

“My body was so famished that I couldn’t shed tears… The last day, I laid there, and I knew that death was ready to claim me…

“Suddenly, there was noise and a burst of light. I was laying there with my eyes closed, but then I could feel myself being taken into someone’s arms. When I opened my eyes slowly, the very first thing I saw was the face of a man. At first, I thought he was an angel or a god, and I wanted to ask him if I was dead. I was in a dream, because that wasn’t what happened—I was alive, and I was being saved from Hell by King Harrow himself. Soon, I discovered that my grandmother had survived, as did a handful of our friends.

“My healing was long and difficult, but once I was completely restored, I had a mission to fulfill. Word spread that Katolis castle was looking for new maids. Right away I made a journey to the crown city in hopes of claiming a position: I was a maid before, so I knew I could do it. During my conquest I encountered His Majesty again. He was surprised but concerned about my intention. I was still young, he told me. I didn’t have to serve him to express my thanks. I could live freely and peacefully like any child, just as I did before. But he was wrong—how could I possibly return to a normal life after what I’ve experienced?”

At this point in her speech, a tear was on the verge of trickling down Charlotte’s pale cheek. “ _Madame_ , it was the miracle that defined my life for eternity. Even in my darkest hour, I wasn’t forsaken. I’m young, but the king made me reborn. I owe him my new life forevermore.”

Dear Charlotte’s story—it had you swept away in grateful bliss. The noise of the busy city was getting loud, but neither of you paid it any attention. Tears and smiles were shared, her delicate white hands held firmly in yours, your heart getting ever so warm.

“I’m thankful for you.”

~OOO~

The daytrip proved very fruitful. Charlotte showed you a few streets around the town square, where there were strips of little stores and other neat sights. For the first time in what seemed like ages, you had the pleasure of passing through an outdoor market, taking joy in the sight and smell of fresh foods (the two of you even treated yourselves and bough some jelly tarts from a woman’s bakery stand). Aside from the market, there was a variety of craftsmen’s shops that sold unique trinkets from woodcarvings to pottery, all of which were lovely. Thirdly were the stores that sparked the interest of many Katolian women, consisting of textiles, cosmetics and perfumes.

Unbeknownst to anybody else, you meant what you said when you told Viren you’d “surprise him.” During your shopping trip, you wound up purchasing three things: a jar full of rose petals, a bottle of lavender perfume oil, and (while Charlotte was distracted by necklaces) a rather revealing white nightdress.

Just as planned, you returned to Katolis castle before evening had set in, and for once you enjoyed a relaxing dinner with your husband and stepchildren. Just as you predicted, the workaholic husband was going to try to douse himself in extra tasks despite having the chance to breathe. After dinner, Viren explained that he’d be spending some time in the castle library to research something for an important spell. Nevertheless, you knew how to handle this—you convinced him not to overwork himself for too long, all with dropped hints and sultry eyes. After all, there was still a “surprise” for him. From the way he responded like an awkward little boy, it appeared that he got the message. He promised not to be gone for long.

With the husband away, you implemented your provocative plan. You dismissed young Charlotte early for the evening and asked for one of the adult maids to assist you. Your first order was to have numerous white candles placed around your bedchamber for ambience. Then, the rose petals you found earlier were taken out of their jar and scattered over the bed. Once the decoration was made, you prepared yourself for the night. You helped yourself to a hot bath before putting on the new lavender perfume oil (Viren’s favorite scent and one of the most romantic fragrances of all). Finally, once your skin and hair were fresh, you slipped into the silken white gown.

All of this would be for naught without one last ingredient. While you were getting ready, your servant was transporting the most important piece of the plot into your bedchamber—the mysterious mirror from Viren’s study.

Nearly two and a half hours had passed since Viren went to the library. Now, in the middle of golden flickering candlelight, you were resting neatly upon your side as if posing for a painting. If the mage was going to do as told, then he’d be back at any moment.

But moments were passing, and all you’d been doing was gazing off at your reflection in the bizarre mirror. Placed strategically across the room, the artifact was aimed so the bed was visible in its refection, as would be any activity occurring upon it. Your mind was passing internally and externally, between what you saw on the outside and the stirrings deep beneath your skin. Physically, you had made the drastic transformation from a self-reserved lady to a wild love goddess. You were stunning, smooth and every grown man’s wet dream. _A seductress, yet a virgin as well:_ by gods’ grace (and a few adult books), you made that possible. Still, none of this would’ve come to be without a fire inside your core; was there one that ever burned so brightly before? You wanted Viren physically, _badly_ right now. You yearned for his presence, starved for his touch, prayed to take and be taken. Since the day he first touched you—before the very mirror you looked at now—your lust for him had grown threefold. How he’d finally lay you and when was no guarantee, so you learned. Regardless, somehow, you were going to have him inside you, but _hell_ , if this strategy didn’t work, then…

You’d gotten so comfortable in your thoughts that you were startled when the door opened. All the preparation, yet for a second you felt unready to see Viren walk in and react to the provocative display of his eager young wife. “[y/n], you won’t believe what I fo—” The mage stopped mid-sentence before he stood and stared at you, mouth still open from pausing on the word “found.” You swore that if he stared at you silently for any longer than he did, his eyeballs would’ve fallen out of their sockets.

You only stared back in surprise for a second before you quickly jumped back into character. You instantly dropped your alarm, putting on your half-lidded gaze, sultry and a little smoldering. Your first words were suave with a little bite. “You’re _late_.”

Just as you had expected, Viren was struggling to hold onto his refined persona. Mouth shifting, he kept quiet out of fear of stuttering. Instead, he cleared his throat, looking off to the side before speaking. “I apologize… It took me longer than expected. I was at a very pivotal point in my research and didn’t want to stop, or else I’d lose track of my thought process.” He subtly reached up, and his finger slid inside his collar to gently tug at it. No matter how calm he made himself out to be, there was no way he could hide his heavy blush.

You huffed. “Lucky for you,” you purred, “I forgot to hide the handcuffs under the bed.”

Viren glanced back at you and furrowed a brow. “You said you wouldn’t need them if I ‘behaved myself,’” he stated. “In that case, were there any other _toys_ you intended to astonish me with, dear wife?”

_Wife_. You loved the way he stressed that word like an officer’s title. Indeed, like an official would, you took your “job” very seriously. With a conceited smile, you rolled onto your back. While suggestively stretching your limbs and arching your back, you pointed to the mirror.

He looked. He was astonished, and unhappy. “What in gods’ name is _that_ doing here, [y/n]?” he spat. “Did you have this brought all the way up here? You should know better than to take things out of my study! That’s a restricted room! Do you know what could’ve happened if someone broke that!? Or worse!?” He would’ve continued the scolding, but he looked to you again and hesitated. Without uttering a word, you went into the lewdest position you could improvise, and you wound up creating an image that he could never (and wouldn’t want to) erase from his mind. After capturing him with blazing bedroom eyes, one hand placed itself near your lips; you bit on one of your fingers, sucking it almost, while your other hand had smoothed over your chest so that when it snagged some of the fabric, it pulled the neckline over until bare breast and nipple showed. Viren’s stare went straight from your eyes to your exposure, attention absorbed by the explicit flesh. Then he bit his lip, both flustered and pleased according to the look on his face and the manifesting bulge in his pants. Intensive stare went back and forth between you and the mirror—was he to reprimand his wife, or was he to fuck her?

Why not both?

Viren finally rested his gaze on you. His lips cracked a smirk. “I see. You’re lusting to be punished a _second_ time.”

You neither confirmed nor rejected. Your sole focus was to get the man’s arse onto the bed. After rolling back over, you got up onto your hands and knees and neared him like a cat. When you were on the edge of the bed, you stood on your knees to come face-to-face with your husband: he stared back at you deviously, but your alluring eyes did not shy away. Realizing he couldn’t scare you, falling into a bewitched trance with every passing second, his expression faded slowly. You seized your opportunity to knock the white staff out of his hand; with the artifact clattering against the floor, you guided him by the collar to join you upon the bed.

Enveloping you in his arms, he pulled you into his lap. Your arms slid over his broad shoulders, bringing yourself flush against him, the two of you brushing noses before your lips united. His kiss was slow, deep and wet; like a woman discovering water after days in the desert, you were savoring every little bit of it, every drop of him that quenched your lips, teeth and tongue.

Without a doubt, Viren was as thirsty as you were. “The things you do to me,” he mouthed against the corner of your lips in a trembling exhale. Being the libertine, he managed to coax a few sounds out of you with his advancing touch: succulent kisses descended to the crook of your neck, and hands feverishly took hold of your thighs. He first pulled you forward to better straddle his waist, ushering you _just_ in the right place so that his clothed erection neatly hit your groin. Without anything else on beneath your dress, the impact was tremendously sensational; if _that_ didn’t make you grow wet, then any shift of his hips beneath you would do it. And to your personal pleasure, this was exactly what occurred, albeit on a much bolder level—as if to tease you about what he wanted to do, he delivered a few slow yet firm pelvic thrusts that bounced you on his lap.

“I ought to leave you like this… Undone, vulnerable, longing for me.” He rubbed your thigh lecherously while he muttered. “Like I did to you before. You deserve it for dishonoring me again.”

Oh, lords, no. If he did that to you again… No. You couldn’t give him the pleasure of putting that fear in you. Cupping his jawline, you adjusted his head to make him stare at you. Brazenly, you shot a look down at him, face but inches away. “Do with me what you will, my husband.” _You dared him._

With that, you earned yourself a mischievous chuckle. “I _shall_.” One of his hands came free of your thigh to grasp the back of your hair, giving him the control to turn your ear against his lips. You gasped and clenched your teeth, both from the tight tug and your heartrate jumping. “Because if I did what I _needed_ ,” he hissed, “you wouldn’t be wet enough for me to shove it in.”

Which made you feel hotter: his lascivious intent, or his hasty manhandling? You heard him just barely growl for you to turn the other way; before you could obey, he pried you out of the straddle, forcing you to tumble aside. Then he snatched you back up by the torso, pulling you back to the same spot, this time with your back smacking against his chest. Now, with you in a spot where he could seize control, he held you by both your waist and chin. Stuck in his clutch without a chance to turn the tables, you only had one option at this point—embrace your position while gazing forward at the explicit scene unfolding in the mirror.

Having the mirror there was a brilliant idea after all. To feel an erotic moment was one thing, as was seeing one in a picture or play. With that, you quickly discovered why so many gushed over the idea of having relations in front of mirrors—you could see and feel both, and you’d be taken to a new level of human sense. You and Viren were the subjects of the present image. You were a tempting beauty, and he was a dark, strapping man. Things were brewing very fast. After briefly eyeballing the reflection, he swooped his head down to deliver rough kisses to your shoulder. Simultaneously, vigorously, he yanked down the straps of your delicate gown, ultimately working at the fabric until your entire upper body was exposed to the cool air. Kisses turned to bites, sucks and licks, and he reached down to squeeze your lovely breasts. Along with these perfect images came the sensations to match, and everything felt so _beautiful_.

“ _Viren_ …”

For a moment, he wouldn’t stop lavishing your body. You had to say his name again to get his attention. With one last wet suck, he raised his brow and turned his face toward you.

No hints. Not when you needed something desperately, not with all this heat kindling in your loins. Your demand was almost a cry.

“ _Fuck me_.”

Grey eyes narrowed on you. “ _Show me how badly you want me_.”

Swiftly, you captured one of his hands. You didn’t hesitate to pry his hand off and guide it to where you needed your nerves teased most. You opened your legs slightly, then placed the hand just beneath the skirt of your dress. Viren took your cue with great pride. Taking charge of the situation, his large, coarse hand glided smoothly between your thighs, pushing the edge of the dress along with it. You could feel your eager, sweat-clad skin become unveiled, causing you to hitch a breath and shiver. When you looked back into the mirror, your eyes grew wide to see that your waiting womanhood was in full view.

You couldn’t cease watching the fingers coming close.

The first touch came at last, and it struck your nerves like a bell. The vibration shot through you, and your lips dropped open. The resulting moan was remarkably passionate; it _had_ to be enough to let him know.

Viren progressed his work. His fingers slowly stroked your swollen labia. In sheer approval, head spinning in delight, you continued to moan and squirm against him. When he decided that teasing your outside was enough, he inched two fingers between your folds to tease you with the anticipation of insertion. Breathlessly you watched, waiting, pleading silently that he won’t take you to arousal without your first release. No, the fingering wasn’t even your concern—sooner or later, you needed the actual coitus itself. You wanted him deep within you, the full act, the entire consummation. You wanted to feel your virgin flower disintegrate in the fires of eros. Yes, you might’ve overstepped your boundaries, but you didn’t deserve any torment. If he was cruel enough to seduce you and then quickly deny your desires, if you were rejected the most beautiful act between spouses, then… well…

_Well_ …

Suddenly, the fingers glided into you. Your heart skipped a beat. You whined, now feeling your slick walls squeezing around his fingers. Your husband immediately hummed in approval. “Very tight,” you felt him mumble into your hair. You had little time to adjust before he started to move his fingers inside of you, pressing mercilessly against all the right nerves to make you quiver. You weren’t at all close to orgasming, but at the rate which he pleasured you, that moment would approach awfully fast. Almost unable to take it, you acted quickly. You wanted to make damn sure he was as ready as you were. Digging your hands in between your bodies, you reached down to his trousers. You could still feel the erection poking hard against your lower back: your touch went to the very spot, and Viren’s body jerked immediately with a grunt sounding from his throat.

His ministrations still didn’t cease, and neither would yours. You cupped the lump, rubbing it heartily, taking special note of its solidity and girth as best as you could. He didn’t keep quiet about the way your touch felt—first there were deep breaths, then sighs and groans as loud as yours. He reciprocated by making his fingers work harder, slipping a third finger into the mix, sliding in and out at a modest pace. Within seconds, he’d already brought you halfway to climax, and you realized that you needed to work at him _faster_. In your mind-boggling arousal, your nimble fingers found the lace of his trousers beneath his tunic. You tugged, pulled and worked at the lace like your life depended on it. Viren’s fingering nearly slowed to a halt as he became distracted by what you were doing, leaning away slightly to look down between you two.

“You naughty woman,” he struggled to purr. “Th-this is why I need to keep you in line… Even at the most… inconvenient times… you always make me want to— ** _OH_**!”

You had made your move. His hardened cock, now sprung free from his trousers, was in your grasp. His startled outcry made you nearly crack a triumphant smile. Knowing the effect you had on him was music to your ears (you never felt so much like a woman in your entire life). With skill and vigor, you began to smooth your hand up and down the shaft. Viren was currently too distracted to keep touching your clit, but the way he sighed out your name was _more_ than enough to keep you stimulated.

It kept this way for a moment—you in control and on the verge of spilling, and Viren losing his mind to your sweet caress.

Then it happened.

Something you _knew_ would be yours, something lovely that all the odds favored in this moment, was once again ripped away at the last second. Regrettably, the terror you feared for this night was coming to life. The worst part of it was the single difference between fear and reality— _Viren didn’t do it_ _voluntarily_.

Viren got quiet. In the middle of stroking, the flesh was turning soft. Again.

All activity came to a crashing, disturbing halt. His hand withdrew from you, and you were peeled from him. Your arousal wasn’t ceasing; for that you were mortified. Your nerves screamed of dread, and you turned your head towards your husband. “W-what…”

The look on Viren’s face made you feel even worse. “I’m sorry.” He shook his head, confused, frustrated, looking down without an explanation. His hand came to his forehead. “Shit, I’m _really_ sorry.”

You turned yourself around. “Viren, what’s wrong?” You nervously leaned towards him. “Are you alright?” You placed a hand on his shoulder, but he didn’t look up at you. He didn’t answer. He crouched over, looking completely defeated. You pleaded again, this time louder. “ _Tell me_.” He sat up, but your hand was pushed away. It was alarming for you to see your husband so upset for the first time, and it took plenty to upset him to begin with. Not a good sign. _Not at all_.

“I don’t know… I…” He was trying to explain it, but he couldn’t. You could see him searching desperately for an answer, but he gave up on it quickly. He let out a sigh and a curse under his breath, tucking himself back into his trousers and lacing them back up.

“I… need a moment.”

The silence in the room was overwhelming. You watched quietly as Viren got up from the bed. Hand still covering his face, he strode to the bedroom door as fast as he could. In the blink of an eye, he closed the door behind him, and you were left alone in the room.

There you sat, on the bed in a mess, without your partner. You were still in place, looking back at the mirror again. You were trying to comprehend your sudden loneliness, questioning the emotions suddenly coming up amongst your horrible touch starvation. The arousal was dying down, but slowly and painfully. What began to surface was making your chest start to hurt.

Why were you so heartbroken? Why were you on the verge of tears? Wasn’t this situation kind of petty to be upset over? It was just sex, after all. Not a fight. Not your whole marriage. If that was the case, then why did you feel like you were losing more tonight than just sex? Was Viren alright? He was attracted to you, wasn’t he? Was it a health problem? Something horrible or life-threatening? Did you need to go console him? Dear gods. _What were you to do right now?_

_What were you to do?_

You weren’t paying any attention to the storm brewing in the far-off horizon outside your window. Nor in your silence did you even acknowledge the howling wind. You were completely ignorant, until the windows startled you out of your mind.

You yelped—both panels burst open loudly, hitting the stone walls hard, and in came rushing the intrusive air. You became frustrated right away. Your already messy hair was tossed in your face a little more. The rest of the room would also be tousled a bit: stray letters on a table were swept up and flew off the table in circles to the floor, and a quill was knocked out of its place. Even the countless burning candles around your bed—every one of them—were blown out.

The night couldn’t get any worse. You were stuck in pure darkness, a mess in your bedchamber, all alone while your husband was away in deep distress.

Still, as of now, these weren’t the biggest differences in your bedchamber…

While covering your face, there was a faint crack of blue that pierced through the darkness and poured between your fingers. Magic, perhaps? You wondered if it was Viren returning to you, but you heard neither footsteps nor the door, and his staff still had to be on the floor. Puzzled, you looked up slowly to the source of the bizarre glow. At first, what you witnessed didn’t register: it was far too out of the ordinary to grasp in your worn-down, disheveled state. You almost dismissed the sight as part of a dream. Maybe you were falling asleep right away from exhaustion? You tuned in to your senses, and you deduced that you were, in fact, still wide awake.

In respect to that, your eyes grew wide. Your mouth dropped.

It was the mirror. The mysterious runes that circled its frame were suddenly luminating eerily. In the looking glass itself, you no longer saw your reflection. In its place was a brightness that hurt your eyes. Your sight adjusted to the light, and a colorful picture appeared in hues of blue and green. And purple. And white. And… glitter.

And… there was someone in it.

_And… they were moving._

Gold eyes met yours, and you stopped breathing. You didn’t catch a perfect glimpse of the strange person standing in the image, but you looked long enough to recognize the figure as an elf.

You didn’t know what the hell was happening. You didn’t know whether to stay quiet and watch, to interact or to cry out for help. Before you could make any noise, the elf abruptly vanished with the rest of the image, leaving you in darkness once again.


	7. Triangle

 

You didn’t know what in gods’ name happened last night. It felt like a wild dream, and you’d treat it as such. On and off in your slumber, you kept seeing images of that glowing blue and the unearthly glittering silhouette with golden eyes.

Your mind was slowly putting together the fragments of your memory to recreate the image of the stranger in the mirror. That image was still bleak, but you found yourself recalling more details and saw them manifesting in your dreams. Whoever that stranger was, be they an illusion or a real being, was undoubtedly an elf—the horns and pointed ears were the first two details to catch your attention. You weren’t quite sure about the sex, though the tall, broad stature made you infer it was a male. All else was a mystery lost in glimmer and shadow.

It was daybreak when your eyes reopened. You awakened to find the mirror was still facing your bed from across the room. The object was back in its ordinary state, but this didn’t put you at ease. Once you got out of bed, you’d order the servants to return it to the High Mage’s study at once. As a matter of fact, you were surprised Viren didn’t come to take it back.

Or maybe the mirror ought to have been the least of your concerns. The absence of warmth in the bedsheets reminded you that you still had a husband to worry about.

Your chest was starting to hurt again. Had Viren not returned from his “moment” at all? Remembering that he dropped his staff on the floor last night, you looked over the bedside to find that it was gone. It appeared he was back in here last night, but only briefly. Regardless, it was very troubling that he didn’t bother to sleep here. For all you knew, he could’ve just accidentally fallen asleep in a couch or chair somewhere in these quarters. But if his distress over last night had come to the point where he refused to face you again, then it was obviously major.

In all probability Viren was feeling disgraced, but that didn’t excuse what he did. You were heartbroken, almost angry, to have been left alone in a state of worry.

Unfortunately, you wouldn’t be able to go look for your husband right at the second. He was off working with Harrow by now, and you had morning duties to tend to. You’d have to go about your day with him in the back of your mind, enduring the stress for a while longer. Shortly after you woke up, Charlotte arrived and helped you get ready for the day. Once you were dressed and served breakfast, you and the girl headed down to the castle mail room to check your letters.

The office was unusually busy that morning. There were already a handful of people ahead of you when you arrived. Messenger crows were flying to and fro high above you and in the back rooms, and you could hear beating wings and crow caws echoing everywhere off the stone walls. The young man who you always saw sitting idly at the front desk was currently rushing between customers and incoming letters. It took almost ten minutes before he was able to tend to you, but you were a patient woman—time wasn’t your biggest concern today.

In the middle of waiting, Charlotte had caught you deep in thought. She was observing you quietly while your gaze was turned to the side. She immediately sensed something was off; the peace in your eyes was no longer there. Before the last person in front of you was finished, she decided to speak up. “ _Madame_? Are you feeling alright?” the handmaid whispered.

You looked to the girl and blinked twice. You had to be cautious. You trusted Charlotte, but she couldn’t know about your current ordeal. She was still a child: it wasn’t appropriate for you to share these things with her. Even if you confessed that something was wrong and kept it vague, she’d be unfairly left to worry. You let your face fall blank before showing her a soft smile. “I’m fine, Charlotte. Just hoping to have something from my family. I’ve been missing them dearly.” At least you could make yourself believable. You could still tell her the truth… Some of it.

It was your turn. The boy looked to you over his table, and his steel eyes perked up. “Good morning, Lady [y/n]. Checking for that letter?”

You stepped forward. “Good morning. Yes. Has anything come?”

This time, you didn’t get the sorrowful frown nor the shake of the head. In fact, he looked thrilled that you asked. “You’re just in time,” he replied. “Something came for you literally a few minutes ago.”

You shared in some of his joy. Finally, there was something good to look forward to. Your smile was more candid, and your eyes had color once again. “Wonderful. Is it my family?”

The boy was beginning to turn towards the mailboxes. “I’m pretty sure. I think it had the Bartolomus seal on it… Let me go check.” He backed away from his desk and strode towards one of the shelves in the far corner. While going through it swiftly, he continued to talk to you. “By the way, I have some great news. I’m getting that promotion to Crow Master!”

Another good thing today. You knew he’d been working hard for it, and you hoped your positive reviews would help. “I’m so glad for you,” you answered warmly. “You deserve it.”

“Oh. I owe it to _you_ , my lady. I wouldn’t have gotten it without all the feedback. Believe me, the Crow Lord highly values your patronage, and he takes special notice of your complements.” After scanning, the young Crow Master carefully pulled a letter from one of the boxes. He examined its seal, then came back to the front desk. With pride, he smiled and presented you with the precious scroll. “Here it is.”

Your heart was leaping. The size and texture of the beige paper were more than familiar to you. Its crimson seal bore an imprint of the Bartolomus family crest. You took the letter from him and nodded. “Thank you.”

The Crow Master bowed. “You’re absolutely welcome, my lady. We appreciate your business. Now, would you rate the service you received today as excellent?”

~OOO~

You had gone back to your quarters to work for the rest of the morning. While Charlotte was repairing the hem of one of your dresses, you were sitting at your stationery tending to the awaited message.

In your last message, you told your parents that life was going well. From what you remembered, you didn’t say anything too remarkable besides Soren’s latest honor of tutoring Prince Callum in sword fighting (your father had taken a shine towards the boy and kept asking to hear about his ventures). You wished you would’ve given Claudia’s accomplishments some ink as well, but considering your conservative parents were uncomfortable with topics like magic, you unfortunately had to hold off. In this respect, you probably weren’t going to find a very large message. Size didn’t matter, though. You wouldn’t have even cared if this letter was two words long—one word alone could make you feel a hundred miles closer to home.

You couldn’t wait any longer. Your finger slipped inside the outer lip of the scroll. You broke the seal, set the letter down on your desk and unrolled it.

Your brows were heightening as you caught a glimpse of it. Your assumption was incorrect: instead of the typical one or two paragraphs, there was an entire page full of text. Not only that, but your mother’s handwriting was also smaller and more calligraphic. The only letter you’d ever seen written like this was the first one sent shortly after your wedding. The words on this page, whatever message they conveyed, were written with thought and diligence. In a way, it made you feel a bit uneasy. What could’ve prompted your mother to write a lengthy message?

You squinted at the page, then began to read silently.

 

**My dearest [y/n],**

**I hope this letter finds you well. I apologize if you receive this a few days later than usual. This week has been awfully busy, mostly because your Uncle Ramos has returned from his journey to Neolandia. We invited him to visit us along his way home, and he spent two night with us. He told us so many fantastic stories about the kingdom and even brought us some gifts. Have you ever seen a scale from a giant desert basilisk? He gave some to us, and they look breathtaking! We’re putting them on display in the library. You’ll be able to see them the next time you visit.**

**Anyways, dearest, I’m so glad to see that your life has been pleasant in the castle. There’s nothing in this world that makes a mother happier than knowing her child is alright while she’s living far away. I’m even happier knowing that you’re enjoying your marriage, too. However, while I don’t desire to disturb your peace, I must write to you about some important matters that need your attention.**

**First, let me tell you that some unforeseen events have occurred. Before your marriage was arranged, we understood that you’d be too occupied in the royal court to run your father’s estate after his retirement. With that in mind, we settled to have your cousin Leon succeed him when the time came. That was our original plan, but things have suddenly changed, and not for the best. To our grief, we were informed that he’s been diagnosed with the Waning Moon Disease. Shockingly, he’s been in the beginning stage for the past two years, but doctors never identified it earlier because of his youth. Everyone thought it was anxiety and depression, but it seems that wasn’t the case. He can function alright now, but those with the disease will become significantly worse within a few years’ time. Soon, he will not only have difficulty solving problems and remembering things but will also struggle with walking, writing, and even speaking. There is no cure for it, and all they can do is give him supportive care. For that reason, Leon has declined to inherit the Bartolomus estate. We’re saddened about his health, and we’ve offered to support him however we can.**

**Additionally, this poses a critical ordeal for our entire family. You and Leon were the only ones eligible to lead. Now the House of Bartolomus is left without an heir, and your father, its current lord, can only take care of it for so much longer. If we are to maintain our honor in this land as we have for hundreds of years, then we only have one solution to the problem—the birth of another heir.**

**Darling, please read carefully. I know this will be a lot for you to take in from a letter. I understand you’ve been married for only a month now. You probably want to settle into your marriage for a while, in peace, without any drastic changes or chaos. Chances are, you’re also worried sick right now because of your cousin, and that’s more than enough to fret over. Believe me, your father and I are very overwhelmed, too. However, this matter is urgent and serious, and you are the only one we can count on. The fate of our great house rests in your hands. We must tell you this, and we’re begging you to act as soon as possible.**

**By the end of this year, we ask that you conceive your first child with Lord Viren. We recommend doing this so soon because of your husband’s age. He is nearing 50 years, meaning that he may be at risk of becoming impotent, and this risk will increase with every year that passes. Even if you’ve already been planning to have children with him in the future, you don’t have much time to act upon it. Whether you produce a son or daughter won’t matter. Any child you have will be an eligible heir, and they will be able to take your father’s place when they are old enough.**

**We beseech you, dearest. You’re our last hope. You don’t realize what a pivotal figure you are to this great house. Since you’ve been in Castle Katolis, you’ve brought tremendous honor to the family name. People are recognizing you as part of Harrow’s company, and for that they’ve given us tenfold the respect. Even a handful of our past rivals have cast their tensions aside and acknowledged us as friends to the royal family. Your work as Lord Viren’s wife and the king’s acquaintance makes a very loyal statement. Any generations after you will live in glory as they serve Katolis on a greater scale than any of us ever have. We’re all very proud of you, [y/n]. Produce an heir, and the legacy you’re sowing will not go to waste.**

**As always, please write back soon. You should also send a letter to your cousin—he’d be more than happy to hear from you, especially during these difficult times.**

**Sincerely,**

**Mother.**

For a moment, it felt like all time had stopped. You sat there in dead silence, a blank face, eyes coming back to sentences repeatedly like lashes.

_Leon has declined._

_Conceive your first child with Lord Viren._

_You don’t have much time._

_You’re our last hope._

Your mother was partially correct. After feeling disbelief, you quickly grew overwhelmed. About everything. But it certainly wasn’t so much for your cousin or your task as it was for your present circumstances. Your thoughts went back to last night, then the wedding night, and dread passed over you ever so brutally. Whatever happened was already too undecipherable. Was it something small and repairable, or was it the worst-case scenario that was running through your mind right now?

This day couldn’t have gotten any worse. You rested your simmering forehead in your hand. You were on the verge of becoming ill; your heart was practically in your throat.

For all you knew, it might’ve already been too late.

Just then, there were three knocks at your bedroom door. You withdrew your hand and turned your head around. Charlotte ceased her gentle humming and neatly placed her work down, then walked over to the door. One of your housemaids was standing there when the door opened; after the woman walked in, she made eye contact with you and curtsied.

“A guard is here, my lady. He says King Harrow wishes to see you when you have the opportunity.”

You had to contain a heavy sigh. Instead, you nodded softly. “Very well. Tell him I’ll be at his majesty’s quarters in a moment,” you said.

The maid curtsied again before spinning around and leaving. You rolled your mother’s letter back up and set it off to the side. Standing up, you smoothed out the skirt of your gown, looking down uncomfortably as you slipped back into thought. Harrow needed you for some projects from time to time, but right now you were pessimistic (and a little afraid that it would involve Viren). If something else were to go wrong, then it might as well happen today.

~OOO~

The guard escorted you up into the king’s hall. Once up the stairs, you were brought before a set of large doors at the end of the hallway. Two more guards were stationed beside each door wielding steel spears: through the openings of their helmets, you could see their eyes shifting to you briefly, but they quickly paid you no mind and stayed in position. The one at your side walked up to one of the doors and knocked twice. It took a few seconds before someone on the other side instructed you to enter. The guard opened the door slowly, then allowed you to walk in first.

You’d been guided into a large but quaint study. Sunlight was pouring into the room from tall glass windows bordered with red drapes. Paintings, bookshelves and fine furniture decorated the room with a regal look, and a large metal chandelier hung from the middle of the ceiling. Across the room was an embellished oak desk with a few matching chairs, its surface topped with some ink jars, quills, and a stack of papers.

Harrow wasn’t sitting at the desk. You looked further off to the side, and instead you found the man standing in front of a tall bird stand. A large black bird with a few green feathers—was his name Pip?—perched himself on the stand, taking small biscuits from the king’s fingers. Preoccupied with the pet, he didn’t realize your presence. He didn’t stop and turn to you until you spoke.

“You’ve requested my presence, your majesty?” you asked, descending into a curtsy.

Stricken by surprise, he turned his head toward you. “Oh! Lady [y/n]. Good morning,” he greeted, turning the rest of himself to face you. Softly he dismissed the guard, and with the shut of the door you two were left alone. He started walking towards his desk; Pip was left at the perch to guzzle down the last biscuit. “Thank you for coming so soon. Please, have a seat.”

You walked towards the grand desk and took a seat upon one of the wooden chairs, and Harrow took his place at the larger chair on the other side. His expression wasn’t at all discouraging to you—he appeared content like always. For that, you were at ease now. This could’ve been another request for your assistance. You’d been volunteering some of your time to handling non-political tasks for the sake of lightening the men’s workload, so Harrow was never afraid to toss opportunities your way.

And indeed, this was another opportunity. After setting some random papers aside, the king set his hands on the desk and smiled at you. “So, [y/n], have you ever been to the Veterans Day Gala before?”

You took a second to think. That gala was always held on Katolis’ national Veterans Day, which was at the very end of September. You typically went to a few galas or balls every year, but none at the castle. Only a few times your parents attended the event, though. “I don’t believe I have, your majesty.”

He frowned a bit, humming and scratching the side of his beard. “Then I don’t suppose you’d be interested in becoming this year’s host, would you?”

_A… host?!_

The question was astonishing. You blinked several times, ogling him in disbelief, but you could see that he was being dead-serious. “Pardon?”

Harrow raised a brow. “Umm… Yes. I want you to be the host for this year’s Veterans Day Gala. Would you like to do it?”

You couldn’t answer that question. It was just too sudden. “ _Me_?” You gestured to yourself. “I’m flattered, your majesty, but… that’s a _significant_ event, from what I understand. Would you trust someone like me to take charge of a royal event for the _very first time_?”

The king was still confident. “Why, yes, actually. If I were to be honest, this gala is hardly much different from any other you’ve probably been to. I’m sure you can do it. Besides, there’s a first time for everything, isn’t there?”

The idea of being a host wasn’t repulsive. If anything, it would be an exciting venture. “That’s… true,” you replied, eyes cast to the side as you thought about it. “However, if I wanted to a great job, I would still require some guidance. Maybe from those who’ve run it before.” Your stare went back to his face. “Who hosted last year’s gala?”

His expression went somewhat blank. “That would be Lord Viren.”

You were bewildered. Viren would’ve had the experience. You were ready to question why he wouldn’t be hosting this year, especially since he was so passionate about the military. Goodness, he even had a son in the Crownsguard. But instead of asking, you came to understand the king’s decision. At least, you tried to. “I’m sure my husband already has more than enough on his plate to supervise a large holiday,” you said. “But… would he still have a little time to aid me, do you think? Surely he knows far more about these traditions than I do.”

Your response prompted a reaction out of the king that seemed very off. There was a brief but strange pause, and a thick black brow was furrowing slightly. “Um… Well…” The man was shifting a little in his seat. He was starting to make you think about whether your question was too absurd, but your logic assured you that it wasn’t you. You faintly tilted your head and squinted. The king noticed your face and mustered up an answer. “Of… course… Yes, he can help.” He smiled at you uncomfortably.

You weren’t convinced. Harrow wasn’t the best at hiding things. For the third time, you were struck with awful gut feelings about your husband. “Is something the matter, my king?”

The fake smile faded. “No, everything’s fine. Just…” He took a deep breath.

It wasn’t helping your nerves any—leaning forward, you anticipated everything and anything. You knew it. Something was wrong with Viren. Where was he right now? Was he sick? Had last night still been affecting him? Or worse, did he talk about it with Harrow? Your racing thoughts were probably unrealistic, but after being left on a bad note, what else could you expect besides the dreadful?

Harrow’s answer was nothing you expected, though.

“Just let this project be _yours_ … Don’t let him push you to do anything you’re not comfortable with. Alright?”

Well… what an odd piece of advice. You were back to being puzzled again, and then you were frustrated. Unable to tolerate the king’s non-transparency, you decided to be more upfront. “Your majesty, this is only a _gala_. What in heavens’ name would my husband try to do?” The message was becoming clear: for whatever reason, Harrow didn’t trust Viren with the task. _Why not?_

Pip screeched out to Harrow and flapped his wings twice; he probably needed something. The king shook his head and stood up from his seat. “Don’t worry about it. I mean… you know your husband better than I do. I’m sure you two will be fine.”

_Like hell you two were fine._

Harrow excused himself and walked over to tend to the bird. You stood from your seat and looked to him. “That isn’t true,” you stated. “Though I’m married to the High Mage, I’ve only known him for two months. You, on the other hand, have known him for over a _decade_.” It might’ve been much, but you were reflecting on your first impression of his friendship with Viren (if that’s what you could call it). Was Harrow as naïve as you thought, or was there more going on beneath the surface? “And for one thing,” you added, “I’ve yet to learn how he behaves in your court.”

The monarch cooed something to the pet, then looked at his empty water bowl. When he heard your last sentence, he turned back to you and frowned. Now facing you fully, he looked more solemn. “Viren is a good man: there’s no doubt about it. Speaking from my experience, though, I’ll tell you… It’s best you not concern yourself with his persona at work, Lady [y/n]. There’s no need to. Politics can make you develop split personalities—you can be a different person in the office than you are at home. It’s like that in every aspect of life, when you think about it.”

You stood tall, calm and composed, hands behind your back. “Forgive me, but I must disagree with you. Someone can wear different masks in different places, but that doesn’t make one person into different people. People _never_ change. A human’s personality traits make them who they are—a human. They can neither be dropped nor hidden. Such traits will show _everywhere_ in life, in the form of actions, words and thoughts. And if a man is entirely different amongst his fellow officers than he is with his friends, then… well… That fact alone says something about him overall.”

The king’s face was warping. “Lady [y/n], what are you asking from me?”

A sigh passed your lips. You were more desperate for honesty than Harrow would realize. “My king, all I ask for is your candor. Don’t sugar coat Lord Viren for me simply because I’m his wife. If I’m to support him…” You paused, thoughts jumping back to your personal ordeal. You could see little difference from this, but you had to come back to Harrow’s appeal. “If I’m to do what you ask of me, then I’ll have to collaborate with him at some point. I need to know what to expect, your majesty.”

Harrow’s eyelids fluttered, brows hitching. With another deep exhale, he turned his gaze to the floor. He placed his hands on his hips and began to step towards you. “There’s… plenty of things, actually.” The huff at the end was nearly a laugh.

Likewise, you faced him and took a step from your chair. He stopped at an arm’s length from you, and you gazed up into his docile green eyes. “Start with the most important thing.”

To your satisfaction, he didn’t break the eye contact with you. “In that case, allow me to tell you something that’s been worrying me for a long time, because I think you might be able to help… I’m sure you’re aware of how passionate Viren is about his work… About two things, really: his country and his magic. His vigor is his best strength, but it can also be his greatest weakness.”

“As I’ve noticed,” you commented. “My husband is quite the workaholic.”

Harrow nodded. “Yes, but… several times, it’s been worse than a mere case of overworking. Being the High Mage has essentially become his _whole identity_. He holds so fast to his role that I think his mind has begun closing. His perception of the world has changed alarmingly. For example, he doesn’t solve problems the way you or I would—whereas we use ordinary solutions, he goes straight to using dark magic. He always calls it a ‘creative solution.’ And to be honest, I don’t know if it’s really a creative solution or a double-edged sword. Magic makes things seem too easy. I fear he’s not only putting others at risk but also himself… That’s just my feeling.”

It made plenty of sense. “Perhaps dark magic is all he’s known. Chances are, he hasn’t been brought up with the same privileges we have. I’ve been told that many men delve into magic when they have no other advantages.”

“That may be. Which is why I think he needs to find more in life.” There was a pause, then a soft smile—a sentimental one, but a hopeful one. “You know, I’m actually glad Viren chose to remarry,” he continued. “He has Soren and Claudia, but he’s needed one more person to look after him. A new companion. Someone with an outside perspective… Maybe, once you two get close enough, he won’t be so caught up in his duties. Maybe he’ll finally settle down again, relax and recover. It would be good for him.”

You returned his smile. His input didn’t quite solve your problems, but he at least gave you some insight. For that you understood, only if just a little, and for that you were grateful. _All openness made you grateful_. “Are you certain he won’t turn me into a frog if I ever yell at him?” you joked.

“Nah. He already keeps more than enough frog legs for spells to last a lifetime.”

The two of you laughed together, breaking the serious air. “In all sincerity, though, Lady [y/n].” Harrow settled himself. To your surprise, he took your hands in his. With bright emerald eyes locking with yours one more time, you watched him silently—you could tell by the gleam, the intensity, that the king was putting plenty of his trust in you. “Take care of my advisor for me,” he instructed. “Will you do that?”

That was your duty in the first place, wasn’t it? Only, this was no longer so much for your king or country. Now, you felt, this was for the man himself.

You nodded to your king. “I will.”

Neither of you were paying attention to noise. Harrow was still looking to you, holding your hands, even when footsteps neared the doors to the study and the doors opened without warning.

“Harrow. Great news! We just received word from General…”

Your breathing came to a halt. Your quickly shot your gaze to the door. The baritone in that voice… You’d been searching for it all morning.

Coming out into the study was none other than your dear husband. His very appearance made more than half of your racing fears vanish from your head: he looked the same as he always was, and in good health. You didn’t know what to say or do. Right there, you could’ve either cried out to him or smacked him across the face. _Did he have any idea how…?!_

You kept your emotions to yourself, and it wasn’t just because you needed to act like a sane lady in the presence of your ruler. Your concern was being thrown off. There was something that changed in Viren’s expression upon entering the room, and it didn’t look right.

His eyes appeared to be aimed _directly_ at your hands in Harrow’s.

“… Amaya.”

Harrow released your hands and turned to him. “Viren? I thought you were supposed to be meeting with the high council.”

You knew from this morning that your husband wouldn’t be too excited to see you today. However, you didn’t expect a reaction anywhere near the one you received now. You stood quietly and watched your husband, the grey, grim irises shooting an austere beam at your face. Just a second ago you were enraged, but now that man’s look had you on the edge of fight or flight. Even while he spoke, his eyes didn’t yield from yours. “Opeli… postponed our meeting to this afternoon,” he answered slowly.

The tension was thick enough to be cut by a sword. Even Harrow could take note of the mage’s demeanor. “Is… everything alright?” the king asked, puzzled.

As quickly as it formed, the tension broke.

The other man cleared his throat. He directed his attention at Harrow, and his expression instantly softened (the shape of his eyes was, however, still a bit narrowed). “Oh… Nothing, my king,” he answered. “Pardon me for intruding, but might I ask why my wife is here?”

Your brows furrowed, and anger settled back in. Did he not know that you were standing right there? Why didn’t he just ask you instead of him? Perhaps _, like a respectable human would?_

“I asked Lady [y/n] to become this year’s host for the Veterans Day Gala.”

Viren cocked a brow. “You normally let _me_ host every year.”

“Indeed, Viren. You’ve always done a wonderful job. But as you know, it’s already going to be a busier year than usual in politics, and I’ll need you for that. Your wife has volunteered to aid us with everything else, and for such a large holiday, we’ll need the help.” He put on an optimistic smile. “She still might need some of your guidance, though. Would you be willing to answer any questions she has?”

“In that case, it might be a little more convenient to let me do it again.”

There was an awkward pause, and Harrow frowned. “You’re already going to be working on that campaign with the military medical staff... Remember?”

Grey eyes were aiming at you again. “My lady is already a very busy woman,” he insisted. “I’m sure she has many other matters to worry about.”

You weren’t sure what the High Mage’s issue was, but he was making your blood boil enough. Nobody was going to speak for you here. You’d let yourself have a say. “I have _plenty_ of time to help,” you asserted, killing them with poise. “I’ve already agreed to do it.” When you spoke, you could’ve sworn you saw a glare hidden beneath the façade of dignity.

“Then, so be it,” answered Viren, thumb rubbing his staff. “Whatever my king wishes… If my wife needs guidance, then I’d be _more_ than happy to speak with her about it later.” His words almost sounded like a promise. For you, what he meant by “speak” was up for interpretation.

It seemed your husband was running out of frog legs.

~OOO~

Afternoon was turning to evening when you finally had the chance to confront Viren. He’d already called you to his study before it was time for him to return to the family’s quarters. Of course, you came to him without hesitation. You were fired up by _everything_ —the disappearance, the evasiveness, and now the sudden impudence.

The doors were unlocked when you arrived. Without bothering to knock, you stormed in and slammed the door behind you. Spinning around, hands planted on your hips, your blazing eyes were shooting darts at the utterly damned man across the room. Your tongue was far beyond ready to fire. It began without warning. “Just what in gods’ name has gotten into you, Viren?!”

Across the room stood the mage. He had his back to you, facing the infamous mirror that was placed back in the room. In spite of your yelling, he didn’t bother to turn around. Something with an earthy smell was boiling inside a bowl in his hand; he carefully set it off to the side on a table. “Hmph… Barging into my domain while shouting. What a lady-like way to start a discussion. I wish Harrow was here to see you now.”

You glared, walking closer to him with clenching fists. “Well, I bet he has an even _better_ impression of you after the way you treated me.”

“Ah. And now you point fingers at me?” Viren didn’t seem phased. He rotated himself to face you. His gaze was condescending, chin kept upward. “Sometimes, pointed fingers are the weapons of a guilty woman.”

You blinked and snarled. “… _What_?”

Before your eyes, something bizarre was happening. It was almost as if the man was changing from mage to prosecutor. His expression was darkening while he kept eyeing you down, neither blinking nor flinching. With hands behind his back, he started to walk around you almost menacingly. “So, tell me, _wife_.” He almost said the word with a growl. “What is your _real_ purpose for being so active in this castle? Hmm?”

Your eyes widened. You backed up out of his circle to defy his hawkish intimidation. “W-what? What does that have to do with anything?”

In a snap he was triggered. He faced you with ire, and his voice raised. “Do you think me a fool?! Do you think I don’t see what you’re trying to do?! Trying to appease the king?! Having private _meetings_ with him when I’m not around?!”

You were backed up against the table. Angry and bewildered, your hands clenched the sides, chest leaning forward like you were a dragon ready to breath fire. “What are you trying to say, Viren?! Stop this!”

“No! I knew I should’ve trusted my gut feelings about out you! I’ve seen your kind before: you flirt and fawn over one man like he’s a god, but then you jump _straight to the next_!”

It was almost as if he just spawned three heads. You were silent. You were about to spurt all the “whats” and curses, but your tongue was jammed when you realized what he was referring to. Right away, your mind jumped back to the earlier meeting—you were holding Harrow’s hands when Viren entered. Though it was an innocent gesture, he must’ve seen it as something else.

Your mouth dropped open, and you snarled. “Are you _kidding_ me?” you gasped in disgust, shaking your head. Would a proper man have jumped to conclusions so fast? Why was he so feral? Another man was holding your hands. _That was it._ “Viren, you and I _serve_ Harrow. That’s our _ruler_ , and we live in the same walls as he does! What else am I supposed to do here besides be your wife, sit around all day?! I owe it to him to help wherever I can—that’s my duty, both as a lady and as a _responsible Katolian_! That does _not_ , by any stretch of the imagination, mean that I’m sleeping with Harrow!”

“Yeah? Well…” His rage was dying down, but something more was arising. You watched him carefully, and you could see his balled-up fists begin to shake at his sides. His voice was equally trembling. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you _did_.” he spat.

_How dare he…_

Your eyes narrowed to slits. If he didn’t choose his next words carefully, you swore you wouldn’t hesitate to make him lose a tooth. “And exactly _what_ , dear husband, makes you think I would?”

Even if what he said next made you want to do it, you wouldn’t move an inch. Not after seeing his face. “It’s because…” Before you knew it, Viren was grimacing horribly. Frankly, it was concerning. You could see him struggling to get the words out. He clearly had a reason for his poisonous accusation, but something was getting to him. He was giving off the vibe of a wounded animal—angry, but in pain.

You had to urge him on. You still needed the answer out of him. “Because _why_ , Viren?”

Finally, he shut his eyes and turned himself away. His answer came out on a hissing quake. “Because you’re _angry_ with me! Because your poor excuse of a man can’t even _pleasure_ you the way you want! Because you’re husband’s not even a _real man_ anymore!”

For a moment, there was nothing but blankness. After his echo, the room had almost gotten as quiet as death, except for the heavy breaths of your crushed spouse. You, meanwhile, could only stare at him quietly, every word of the common tongue now robbed from your throat.

You couldn’t speak, but you could fit the puzzle together. Viren didn’t return last night because he didn’t have the courage. He wasn’t sick or in danger. He was _ashamed_.  It was all the more reason for you to feel like breaking down. You couldn’t blame him for how he reacted, but did it justify anything? Did he realize how he put you through hell today? You understood him, but did he understand you?

_How were you going to get through to him?_

Your stress was going to flow out of you like a river. “… No.” There was a lump in your throat. “No, don’t you _dare_ say that.” You came away from the table and drew close to him. “You had me worried to death all night and all day.”

Viren didn’t turn to you. He said nothing.

You could feel your eyes getting watery from the pent-up frustration. With your voice growing louder, your tone began to shake. “Don’t you know that?! I was waiting for you to come back, and you left me there all night! You didn’t even come back to greet me this morning! I thought something happened to you! _That’s_ what made me angry!”

He was still turned away. He _had_ to have known from your voice that you were truthful. However, after a moment of you waiting and holding back tears, he shifted his head slightly. “You… don’t hate me?” he murmured.

Your response shot up from the bottom of your chest. “ _No_!”

There was one more pause. He was staring off to the wall, thinking deeply about something. Then he mouthed something faintly, but you could just barely catch it. “Seems I’ve misunderstood.”

Your hand came to his shoulder. “Will you please look at me?” you choked.

For a change, you were caught up in a gesture that you thought you’d never receive. Viren did more than just turn around and look at you. In an instant, long arms had surrounded you and drew you in. You gasped, hands coming to his shoulders so you could brace yourself. Then he rested his head next to yours; you could feel the arms tightening around your waist, holding you in place.

Was he… hugging you?

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I didn’t feel comfortable coming back to face you after that happened… I never thought you’d care.”

He never thought you’d care. That stung your chest. _He never thought you’d care._ This man was a challenge for you, but you weren’t a heartless woman. Yes, you cared. You were frustrated with him, he wasn’t agreeable, but you cared.

Head leaning on his shoulder, you accepted his embrace. “You are forgiven.”

Clearly, you were proving Viren wrong. His head withdrew. Your chin was caught beneath his fingers, and he looked down at your face, coming from sorrowful to amazed. Before either could say anything more, he surprised you even further with affection. He lowered his face, then pressed his lips against yours.

You were already overwhelmed by revelation, but you couldn’t help yourself—you clung harder to his shoulders, and you engaged in the kiss.

~OOO~

Somewhere in a strange place, a realm that felt beyond life and death, there still existed the celestial bodies of the sky. Much to anyone’s surprise, they behaved like their counterparts in the mortal world. In the daytime hours was the sun that blazed high, passing across the sky in a single arch, its golden rays kissing every inch of the earth along its path. When the sun was absent and darkness fell, the stars took its place, breaking through the blackness with their delicate light, dusting the sky with the same countless patterns that took legend in the mortal plane. Third was the pale moon, ever present both day and night—it changed in shape and brightness, sometimes never visible at all, but it was there nonetheless, a companion to all the other bodies.

These bodies weren’t left unknown. Many had gazed upon them before, and many had lost themselves in their beauty. Whether the blessed many were still living beneath them in the present was unknown. At least to the one who dwelled there now. And if they were, he’d surely stand out from the rest and be the only member of his kind. He’d be the only one, perhaps the first, to no longer cherish in the beauty of those heavens.

Much to his displeasure, tonight was no exception. He’d been staring intensely at the heavens, more so than he’d done in ages. He behaved as if he expected something to change. Despite his logic, he probably was. Nevertheless, as if to spite his effort, all bodies stayed in formation. Even the boundless stars, for as much as they told him, had conveyed to him the same old messages. If anything, they looked a little less beautiful.

He had more than enough of it. Besides, his bath was getting cold. After staring for so long out his window, he closed the drapes and turned away. He’d still have to look upon the cosmos twinkling in his own azure skin. How could someone think the stars dull when he was covered in stars himself?

Well, at least his would change from time to time.

Forget the stars. Water and candleflame would be his company tonight. While walking up to the bath, he undid the gossamer belt of his robe. With nothing to secure it now, the indigo silk slipped off easily over his broad shoulders, and it plunged onto the floor like a liquid at his feet.

Water and flame were very fortunate this evening. “Breathtaking beauty” wasn’t a term strong enough to describe him. Both elements had the divine pleasure of touching his form while he bathed. The light of the candles traced golden lines over every beloved feature, from his narrow chin down to the strength and length of his limbs. His nude flesh was submerged in the bathwaters, where warmth could flow and softly caress every inch of him, where even his most sensitive parts were given adoration. When he submerged his head from time to time, long white hair would fan over the surface of the water, combed and caressed just as much.

What a fortune for them, but what a shame for _him_ —nobody and nothing but these elements could tend to him. Not in the way he desired.

During a meditative state, his attention went to one of the perfume bottles on the edge of the tub. Its curved shape had instantly reminded him of a woman’s body. He spent the rest of that moment with his ethereal eyes closed, reminiscing the humans he dared to watch the prior evening.

His lips formed a grin.


	8. In Search of Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone, and thank you for supporting this story!
> 
> I strongly apologize for the long waits on these chapters. I think it's fair to say that this story updates every 2-3 weeks. This chapter especially took a long time to write, mainly because this was a very intense chapter. However, I hope the work pays off, and I hope people enjoy the angst.

 

You and Viren had sat down together and talked. Misunderstandings were cast aside, and rules were established to avoid any more.

Viren made his requests clear as crystal. You were permitted to have your meetings with Harrow, but your husband had to know about them beforehand. Furthermore, you were expected to behave professionally around the king at all times—in other words, no physical contact of _any_ degree, even if the king initiated. Besides these rules, you were free to take on any non-political task with the full support of your husband. You knew such terms were unnecessary, but seeing no hindrance to your daily life, you would comply.

In return, you had one request for him—see a doctor. You wanted to breathe easy knowing that nothing was medically wrong with him. You had wishful doubts, but you wanted to be sure. More importantly, you were praying in secret that his loss of vigor was a temporary issue, or at least treatable. At first, Viren was a little uneasy about your request. He hadn’t seen a doctor in almost _ten years_. Even when instances arose, like colds and sprained ankles, “creative solutions” were always the automatic go-to. But you persisted. What harm was there in a doctor’s visit? After plenty of nudging and urging, he caved in and agreed.

You didn’t tell your husband about your mother’s letter, nor did you breathe a word about the mirror.

For a change, you were able to see him come to bed. You were up much later than usual, unable to fall asleep with the remaining problems swimming through your mind. You never imagined Viren would behave as softly as he did when he came into the room. He asked why you were still awake; you came up with a lie and told him it was just the storm outside that woke you. When he walked out of the bathroom, he found you curled into a ball on your side of the bed, eyes closed but your thoughts still running. What finally drew you out of your head were the sensations of the mattress shifting under his weight and the hand curling over your shoulder. You turned onto your other side, and you saw the cloudy eyes of a sorrowful child.

For whatever remained of that final hour awake, you looked to each other in silence. To be frank, you felt as though you were looking at anyone else but Viren. The man you came to know didn’t gaze upon you so gently, nor had he ever given you such a mild ambiance. At one point his hand came between your faces; his finger carefully brushed a stray hair out of the way of your eye, tucking it behind your ear. And though that feeling was so unanticipated, so foreign that you swore it almost went against the laws of human nature, you couldn’t turn it away. It was mystifying, but it was so. For reasons unbeknownst to you, Viren was quietly bringing down a wall you thought never existed. He never looked so... _vulnerable_.

In such moments, all people deserved one thing.

_And you said you’d care for the king’s advisor._

You shifted closer to him. Bringing your face close to his own, you planted a soft kiss upon his forehead. In turn he draped his arm over your waist, slowly enveloping you until you were pressed close to his chest.

~OOO~

It wasn’t yet dawn, but your eyes were already opening. Viren’s movements around the room had woken you up. He must’ve noticed—while your vision was still blurry, you saw his shadow pass over you before feeling soft lips on your forehead.

“Am I being too noisy, darling?”

Eyes still puffy from slumber, you kept closing and reopening them. “Do you have to go already?” you murmured, voice coming out scratchy. From what you could tell, he was already dressed back up in his gray robes.

Viren sat down on the edge of the bed. His fingers graced over your forehead before running gently through your hair. “I’m afraid so.”

Grunting, you twisted onto your back, and your limbs and neck sluggishly straightened out into one great stretch. “You don’t even… have to be to work… Not until sunrise.”

He leaned over you. Cupping your cheek, he lowered himself and bestowed a kiss upon your lips. First was a chaste peck, but when you opened your eyes to him again, he decided to catch your mouth wholeheartedly. Though you were nowhere near prepared for a deep kiss, it certainly wasn’t the worst way to start the morning. You gladly reciprocated by clinging to him slowly, first slinging your arms over his shoulders before interlacing your hands at the base of his neck. As you moved your lips with his, your nose was filling with the scent of florals and herbs, a fresh scent that he always wore yet you could never grow bored of—he must’ve put it on just before he woke you.

Slowly, you pulled out of the kiss. You opened your eyes and smiled warmly. “I wish you’d stay with me. Just for one more hour.”

“How I wish I could,” he cooed, giving you another kiss on the forehead. “But duty calls. There are so many things I must tend to.”

“What could possibly need tending to at this hour?”

Viren stood up from the bed and grabbed his staff. “That mirror, for one.” He sounded frustrated when he mentioned it. “I’ve been trying to figure out its secrets, but no luck. It could be very important.”

Your lips gradually contracted. For a second, you wondered whether it was best to tell him your experience or to keep quiet. You weren’t even supposed to be touching that mirror. Would he be angry if he knew it activated on you? Even if you told him, it wouldn’t be that helpful—after all, you didn’t do anything to activate it, and you couldn’t say what was even happening. You weren’t a mage. You didn’t know these things.

For now, you’d settle with pretending nothing happened. You sat up and looked at him with a frown. “How do you know if it’s important?” you asked. “What if it’s just an ordinary mirror? For all you know, you could be wasting your time.”

The mage shook his head. “Nonsense. It was in the Dragon King’s lair. He kept it closer to him than any of his other possessions. Somehow, it had to be of use to him. We just… don’t know how.”

“How long will it take, though? What if you never figure it out? If you keep working at it nonstop, you’ll grow too tired to continue… Won’t you ever rest? Just a little?”

He turned back around. His gaze was still soft. While coming back over to your bedside he sighed, smiling albeit wearily. “My darling.” He knelt beside you, cupping your chin fondly. “A servant of Katolis _never_ rests. You know that.”

His touch had warmed your heart. What made him stay so affectionate, even to this morning? You reciprocated his touch and cupped your hand over his cheek, thumb stroking his pronounced cheekbone. “ _I_ rest,” you answered.

Your chin was pulled closer. Viren leaned in until his face was inches from yours. “I sacrifice my rest so that you may have yours,” he whispered. Before you could say anything more, he brought you into one more kiss.

You were surprised, but you were enamored. He’d been this way since late last night. Was the real Viren finally opening up for you? Such loving touches. Such delicate words. Such genuine kisses. Would the rest of your mornings be this way from now on? If so, then you didn’t want it any other way.

“Now, rest for me.” He withdrew, digits gracing your chin until they slid off. Laying back down on your side and pulling the blankets over, you watched your husband exit the room and close the door behind him.

~OOO~

You had received another hour or two of sleep before sunlight cracked through the horizon. Just as you were awakening, Charlotte knocked on your bedchamber door. You called for her to enter, and when the door opened, your nose was heartily greeted by the smell of food.

“ _Bonjour, Madame_.” The young maid carried your breakfast in on a silver tray. She gave you a gentle bow before carefully sliding the tray onto your lap. Before you was a lovely morning meal—an entrée of eggs and toast, accompanied by some fresh fruit, some jam, a glass of orange juice, and a cup of hot tea.

You smiled at her and nodded. “ _Bonjour_ , Charlotte. _Merci_.” You picked up the little porcelain cup and allowed the little ribbons of steam to reach your face. You inhaled deeply, indulging in the earthy smell of jasmine.

While you blew and sipped on your tea, Charlotte sauntered over to your closet and opened it. “What would you like to wear today?”

“Hmm…” You peered at the various dresses hanging on the rack inside. The maids had done laundry yesterday, so there were a few more to choose from. While looking, you spotted the gold-embroidered sleeve of your favorite springtime gown. “How warm is it outside, Charlotte?”

“Warm enough that you won’t need a cloak. If anything, I’d suggest some lighter fabric for today. It will be hot.”

You took another sip of tea, then pointed. “The blue one, please. With the gold.”

As instructed, the girl reached up and pulled out the desired dress. While she was holding it up, the sleeve of her dress had slid down her forearm. Instead of admiring the beauty of the outfit, your eyes went to something that made your smile fade.

“My gods, Charlotte. What happened to your arm?”

Upon her fair skin was a profound splotch of black and blue. Charlotte looked surprised by your question, staring between you and her forearm. “Oh… Don’t worry, _Madame_. It was from that guard running into me earlier this morning. It hurts a little, but it will go away.”

You were still concerned by the intensity of the bruise. “He must’ve run into you awfully hard,” you commented. “What happened?”

Charlotte carried on like it was nothing. She walked over to a chair and neatly laid your dress over it. “It was strange, actually… I was walking down the hallway when one of the guards ran up from behind me. He meant to run past me, but he accidentally knocked me hard against a bannister, and it hit my arm.”

“That’s very strange, indeed. Sounds like he was in a hurry.”

The handmaid opened the curtains and the window. “He was, _Madame_. I hope everything was alright… He was heading in the direction of _Monsieur_ Viren’s study, too.”

Your brows furrowed. You set down your tea, looking at the rest of your breakfast while thinking. Viren’s study was in the same wing as the scholars’ rooms. Not only that, but he was always the only one in that wing at that hour. Why would a guard be running to him of all people? Did it involve magic matters? Did it involve Soren?

Perhaps you were overthinking. They were no matters for your concern. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to err on the side of caution. “Don’t fret about it, Charlotte. If it’s anything important, I’m certain my husband will inform me.” Eyeing the eggs, you picked up your fork. “For now, let us carry on with our day.”

Charlotte nodded in agreement. “ _Oui, Madame_.”

~OOO~

After you finished getting ready for the day, you went straight to your stationery to work on some letters. With your mother’s letter on the top of the pile, your attention went to that one first. Sitting quietly at your desk, you re-read the message from top to bottom, reinforcing every word into your memory like a repressed seal.

Alas, no matter how well you could comprehend everything she said, you still didn’t know what to say back. What were you going to tell her about producing an heir? With that having been the key subject, there was no way you could dismiss it in your next letter. In addition, she was probably anticipating for you to write back promptly. Would you simply agree to do it and pretend nothing happened, or would you be candid about your situation and risk putting your family in more panic than they already were?

And all the crises aside, how did you even feel about having a child?...

You wound up placing the letter back on top of the pile. Your mother could wait another day. This was something you _needed_ to sleep on. Today, however, you could satisfy at least one of her requests by writing a letter to your ailing cousin Leon. You pulled out a blank sheet of paper, and you began to make out a thoughtful message.

The letter took you under a half hour to write and prepare for sending, and you worked on two additional letters for some unrelated matters before going to the mail room. When everything was set, you headed out of your quarters and walked down the castle hall, young Charlotte close to your side with the scrolls. Little did you know you’d run into your spouse until you heard the clicking of his staff against hard tiles.

Viren turned a corner and headed your way. The shadows on his chiseled face showed that he was more rigid than usual. But once the High Mage saw you, there was an unmistakable light in his eyes. Anywhere outside of your quarters, he’d give you a modest nod and carry on. Today was a different day, though. Instead, he stopped where your paths were crossing, snatching you in a warm embrace and kissing your lips.

“Hello, my beloved.”

You pulled from him slowly. _Beloved_. You were awestruck by the kiss and the name. “Hello, darling.” The name felt so odd on your lips. Odd, but lovely. You never thought you’d be addressing him this way. Nevertheless, there seemed no other way but to call him something as endearing. His new grace was a stream, and the wall to your heart was a shore—it was little, but it kept eating away at the edge. What could you do?

Viren released you and looked over at Charlotte. The girl paid no mind and curtsied. He acknowledged her with a nod, then returned to you. “Slept well?” he asked.

“Yes.” You didn’t smile at all. You were too distracted by the shape of his brow: it was slight, but it seemed off. You’d known him long enough to understand it signified trouble at work. That was when your memory jumped back to Charlotte’s statement about the running guard. Now seemed like the appropriate time to inquire. “Is Soren alright?”

His face softened. “As… far as I know,” he answered, confused. “He’s outside training Prince Callum in sword fighting. Why?”

“Charlotte saw one of the Crownsguard sprinting to your study this morning. Soren had to watch over the North Wing, didn’t he? I was worried it had something to do with him.”

You knew you saw it. You weren’t a fool. Viren’s expression was blank when dread suddenly raced through his eyes like a panicked horse. Even then, he decided to do what he was so infamous for: concealing it. He smiled, and he feigned tranquility so well that anyone else would’ve easily believed that nothing was wrong.

He shook his head. “Nothing at all. Soren is in good health, and all is well.”

Dissatisfied by his answer, you maintained your frown. In fact, it was a little upsetting. _Again, with men concealing things_ … You were about to say something, but he saw you open your mouth and cut you off _immediately_. “By the way, I need to say.” Donning some charm, he put a hand to his heart and tilted his head. “Might I say that you look radiant in that dress, [y/n]? Good gods, I swear my heart is ready to burst from my chest right now… Why don’t you go outside for some fresh air? And while you’re at it, walk past the ladies in the courtyard. They’ll burn with envy once they see you.”

“Viren.”

He walked around and touched your shoulder. He wasn’t giving you the chance. “I must be going. None of you ladies will worry about it. Go outside. Enjoy the sun.”

He stepped away from you, but you turned around and reached a hand out. “ _Viren_.”

No. He decided not to hear you. He strode down the hallway, steps wider and pace picking up. Being apparently powerless, you and Charlotte watched him leave in silence. Something was wrong. It wasn’t Soren, but nonetheless major. There was a nasty pain in your stomach but a worse pain in your chest. After everything that happened yesterday, you would’ve thought that Viren learned not to be so evasive towards you. Maybe you were wrong, or maybe he had good reason—after all, it was outside of your business. Regardless, whatever the reason might’ve been, it stung to realize that he still didn’t trust you entirely.

“Shall we go outside after the post office, _Madame_?”

You turned to Charlotte, attempting a half-hearted smile. “Of course,” you sighed. Together, you continued your journey down the hall.

The truth would be out soon.

~OOO~

The sun was at her highest point above the landscape. You went about your day, albeit patiently waiting for the truth. There was no news circling around that would give you a clue.

Soren and Claudia weren’t around for you to ask. Would Viren have told his children instead of you? Perhaps. They were involved in castle affairs, but they were also his family.

_His_ family…

The second sting to your heart. They were your family as well now. That was legally speaking… But you had to be brutally honest with yourself—despite the marriage, you still couldn’t call it yours. It just didn’t feel right. It was so unlike the family you’d been blessed with for all your life: an encouraging mother, a supportive father, uncles and cousins to talk to, and all the wonderful friends and servants that anyone could desire. In the life you knew, love was boundless; here it wasn’t the same. You were outside of their world, blocked off like a refugee outside city walls. If you wanted to be in their circle, you’d have to keep proving yourself, and even _that_ wouldn’t guarantee you the same love.

What more could you do? What more would it take to prove yourself? To Soren? To Claudia?

To _Viren_?

Your eyes were cast down from a sunlit mosaic window while you were brooding. You then heard the clicking of armor from your side and looked over your shoulder.

“Prince Callum?”

It was a rather odd sight. The boy was about to pass you by, almost dragging his feet as he went along. Instead of his normal clothes, he donned a suit of ceremonial armor that was flawed by a splash of mud. When you addressed him, he stopped and glanced at you—he already appeared disheartened, but it wasn’t until he saw you that a little embarrassment surfaced as well. “Oh… Umm… Hello, Lady [y/n].”

You couldn’t help but look at the blots of mud on his cheek. “Goodness, what happened to you?”

Callum let out a soft exhale. He looked down and shook his head. “Long story,” he murmured.

You reached into the pocket of your dress, pulling out your silk handkerchief. You held it in front of the prince. “Here,” you offered softly. “For your face.”

For a second, he looked at the piece of cloth, then back up at you. Surprised by your gesture, he took the cloth. “Thanks.” He tended to his face and began to rub the smudges off.

Perhaps you’d ask the prince. “I’m looking for Soren and Claudia. Have you seen them anywhere?”

Callum awkwardly handed back your dirtied handkerchief. “Soren just left the castle with a big search party. Not sure when they’re going to be back. And I think Claudia is in the library…Maybe check there?”

_… A search party?..._

Curious, you squinted at Callum. “What are they launching a search party for?”

The teenager frowned. “I don’t know.”

“How many knights did you see going?”

He had to think for a second. “About… Twenty. Maybe thirty. It was pretty big.”

Your brows were raised, and you were quiet. Though you knew little about military operations, you recognized the alarm represented by the number. The only time so many soldiers would be launched in a search party was in the case of a threat.

“Please excuse me, Lady [y/n]. I should be going. Ezran and I have to leave for the Banther Lodge before sunset.” Callum was turning and ready to continue down the hall.

_… The king’s winter lodge?_

You couldn’t help it. Your instincts were firing up, and more knots were twisting within. There was a search party launched, and now the princes were leaving. Your hand was outstretched to the boy. Something was very wrong. Whether you could do anything about it or not didn’t matter. You needed _answers_.

“Prince Callum. _Wait_.”

Your urgent plea had caught the prince’s attention. Before he could take a step, he twirled on a heel. Both green eyes were intently fixated on you.

Your eyes were desperate, as was your voice. No time to dance around the subject—you had to be blunt. The worst he could do was refuse. “Please. I need you to tell me what’s going on.”

Callum’s expression was turning uneasy. “What do you mean?”

You took a deep breath, then softened your voice. “Please. Listen to me. If someone has told you not to breathe a word about anything, then I understand. I cannot force you to break that rule. But if you choose to tell me, then I swear unto you that I’ll keep it to myself. If I’m ever caught knowing, then I’ll never tell anyone that I heard it from you… I know that something’s wrong in the castle right now. I don’t know what it is exactly, but I have a feeling we’re in danger. As of right now, nobody has said _anything_ about it… I don’t think there’s anything I can do to help, but… I suppose what I want is to know so that I may prepare… or protect someone… I beg of you. I just need the _truth_.”

You watched Callum’s face carefully. His gaze wandered from you, looking around the hall, but he no longer looked anxious. His tone was equally as candid. “I can’t say, Lady [y/n], but…” He let out a dejected sigh. “Looks like I’m not the only one they’re keeping secrets from.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

Callum made eye contact with you again. “We’re supposed to leave. That’s all I’ve been told. The king said this morning that I had to go to the Banther Lodge with my brother. I know there’s something terrible going on, but… he won’t admit it.”

The revelation had you in shock. “They haven’t even told _you_? King Harrow is making you and your brother _leave_. You’re his _family_. How could no one tell you why?”

 “I don’t know… Maybe they just…” Almost as if in anguish, he shook his head. “I don’t know. But it’s really not helping me.”

Your jaw would’ve dropped if you hadn’t been clenching it in frustration. You wanted to shake your head as well. You already knew the men of the castle to be riddled with secrets. But in such a potentially dire time, this was all so undue. To withhold the potential threat of an attack from their own princes sounded unacceptable. Someone was in danger. What if it was them? _It wasn’t fair._

“Is that why you’re looking for Soren and Claudia?”

You nodded slowly. “Yes.”

Callum tilted his head. “What about Lord Viren? Would he tell you?”

Your brows furrowed at the mention of his name. Your heart was sinking again. “Not at all,” you murmured.

He huffed. “Seems we’re both dealing with the same problem… That’s frustrating. He’d tell his kids, but he wouldn’t tell you, too? Why wouldn’t he? You’re his wife.”

_That was a very good question._

 “He never tells me anything.” The statement came out more general than you intended. Then again, was the feeling invalid? You looked as if gazing a thousand miles. “Heed my advice, Prince Callum. Be grateful that you have family. Never take anyone in your life for granted. Do you understand?”

The boy was taken aback. To him, your advice had come out of nowhere. “… Lady [y/n]?”

Your center of focus snapped back down to him, and your final gaze was stern. “Anyways, I shall let you go, your highness. You must be leaving. May you have a safe journey.”

Callum didn’t say a word. He stood there, watching you curtsy and walk away.

~OOO~

Sure enough, it was later at sunset that you received the truth you sought. Neither relative nor friend were the first to tell you, but rather the castle guards.

Elven assassins would infiltrate Katolis Castle at moonrise. A plotted attempt on Harrow’s life.

Before your eyes, a nightmare was coming to life. Everywhere in the halls, light was turning to darkness. More soldiers than you even knew existed were scattering throughout, almost transforming the atmosphere into a war zone. You witnessed the castle personnel being escorted by guards. There were men, women, children and elders alike, all flooding into the hallways in straight lines, their voices hushed, their eyes overflowing with fear. Even the most courageous ones would’ve been unsettled by this disheartening scene, had they understood the beauty of these blessed walls prior to the terror.

All Crownsguard soldiers were to report to the king’s tower. Everyone else was ordered to evacuate their quarters and descend to the castle cellars for safety. You would go with the people, but not without making a bold attempt to intervene with the king’s fate.

In a way, you were disobeying your husband. You didn’t bother to find Viren first before taking off to see Harrow. However, in a time like this, you didn’t give a damn about rules. A life was at stake. A dear _friend_ was at stake (damn professionalism, too). And though the chances of you making a difference were slim, you were still going to offer up your chance to help. _It was worth every word._

Shockingly, Harrow had allowed you into his room without contest, but that was only half the difficulty.

“Why in gods’ name are you staying here?! They’ll find you here easily!”

“As it should be.” Harrow was sitting at his chair, sword in lap. Your fear did not stir him, which frankly distressed you even more. “I know they’ll come here, so it is here that I face them.”

You couldn’t believe this. Had Harrow lost his senses? Did he have a death wish? “There’s a difference between facing an enemy and assisted suicide!”

“Lady [y/n]. I’m doing what needs to be done. You wouldn’t understand. This is a matter of integrity.”

“A matter of… _integrity_?” You stepped forward. “No. This is a matter of _life and death_! You don’t understand the reckless endangerment you’re making!”

Harrow put his sword aside, standing from his seat. “I already _have_ endangered us, and for a _long time_ ,” he answered firmly. “What’s happening tonight is just the consequence. I’m the only one who can pay that price.”

“Wha… What are you talking about? There is no price you need to pay! Your life is precious, as is everyone else’s! You cannot risk death. You are _loved and needed_! Don’t you see that?!”

Huffing out your name, Harrow was grimacing painfully. “You’re caught up in the same illusion everyone else has about me…” That beautiful glimmer inside his green eyes was no more. There was nothing left in him except despair. You couldn’t understand it, and it was absolutely _breaking your heart_.

You just wanted to keep fighting it. _You needed to._

“No… No. There is no illusion!... Please. Your majesty, there is still time. Dismiss this current plan. Come with me tonight instead. We can evacuate you from the castle while your warriors fight the assassins. If we need to, then we’ll guide you safely out of the capital… My old home isn’t that far outside the crown city. We can give you refuge in the Bartolomus manor. My father would be more than willing to let you stay!”

Harrow shook his head. “No, [y/n]. That would put you and your family in danger. It’s too reckless. Too cowardice.”

“Where else can you go?!”

The king was only watching you distress. He was growing increasingly pained by your fear—his face alone told you there would be no easy way to take it in. Anything else he said would only wound you more, and himself in return. It wasn’t until that moment when you saw the harsh reality.

Your lips were parted. A tear rolled down your cheek. “You… actually want this.”

For a moment, Harrow had already seemed dead.

He walked closer to you. “I have obligations, [y/n]. Now, you must go tend to yours. As your king, I order you to do this… Go down into the cellars for safety, and watch over the people. Be as calm as you can. No one must see you cry. At a time like this, they’re going to look up to you for assurance. Don’t let them fall apart.”

In the middle of your tears, you shot the king a look of disgust. “Are you asking me to lie to them? Tell them that everything is okay when it isn’t?”

Harrow was nearly on the verge of tears as well. “It isn’t a lie, Lady [y/n]. I’m not going to leave Katolis in shambles. I’ve made sure of it. Do your duties, and the rest will follow.”

Your gaze fell from him, and your face softened. Such a small duty, yet it weighed so heavy on your shoulders. How could you possibly hold it together in everyone’s darkest hour? You were strong, but never had you experienced so much turmoil. You didn’t know if you’d endure well. And then there was the element of uncertainty—the outcome of this night was in the hands of fate; with no power to steer it, you were at the mercy of fear. To overcome this internal chaos, you had to trust the ones with power. The ones who hid from you their secrets. _Could you do that?_

Harrow’s hands were reaching for yours. “I trust you,” he murmured. “But I need you to trust _me_.”

Before he could grasp them, you slipped them away.

“I must go.” You just barely curtsied to Harrow and turned away so he wouldn’t see your face. Tears were still blurring your vision, as much as he didn’t want to see it.

You didn’t look back. Not even once.

You opened the door and slipped out as quickly as you could. A few more crownsguard soldiers had already gathered in front of the door, including Soren. When you shut the door, they turned their heads and looked at you silently. They must’ve already noticed your emotional state: you could barely hold back either tears or sobs. A worried Soren was about to speak to you, but you rushed past him.

However, your attempt to avoid anyone was in vain. Standing in the way of the stairs was your husband.

“ _[y/n]_.” Viren was almost startled to see you.

You looked up at him through reddened eyes. He shouldn’t have run into you. Seeing him only made you start to cry harder. You should’ve been angry at him right now. How dare he not tell you that a friend would die? You could’ve saved him, could’ve helped him escape, could’ve convinced him to change his mind before things got out of hand. But instead of rage, you felt desperation. Viren had the power, and you needed someone to trust. Someone. Anyone. Even if they didn’t deserve it. _He was the only one._

You sobbed, hands on his robes, ignoring the basket in his arm. “He’s in a dark place, Viren! You have to do something!”

The mage’s eyes were wide, but his voice was uncomfortably soft. “Darling, you need to be with the others.”

Your eyes were shut tight, and your hands clenched his robes. Tears were streaming freely, staining Viren’s robes, falling onto the cold floor. “Why didn’t you tell me?!” you cried.

Viren’s soft reaction was unsettling. He set his staff aside, then cupped your cheek and hushed you. “I had to keep it confidential, darling. I didn’t want to scare you.”

You opened your eyes to him. “I could’ve helped!... He wouldn’t be here like this!”

He hushed you down again, gazing at you softly. “There’s nothing you could’ve done,” he responded. “Any interference, and the elves would come after you, too. I’d never let my wife put herself in danger.”

You were gazing back, cries settling to hitched breaths. His assurance was too soothing for you. His gentle words, his kind touch—they were sweetly tending to the horrid pain in your heart. Was it alright for you to accept this? You couldn’t bring yourself to scold him. Then again, did you still have a reason to? You wiped your cheek. “Then what else can you do?” you whimpered.

Gray eyes were burning with determination. “Everything that I can.”

Your eyes went to the basket. “What are you doing with that?”

Viren carefully placed it down. “Don’t worry about it.” After standing back up, he drew you closer. “I’m going to save Harrow. Alright? He isn’t a perfect man… He has too much pride and regret: both are driving him to think unclearly right now. But he isn’t just the ruler that Katolis needs right now. He’s also part of my world. A friend. A _brother_. May I be damned forever if I let our friend die on this day!”

“And what about you?.. Soren?... Claudia?” You held to him by his shoulders. “You’ll be in danger as well. Will all of you still be alive, too?”

Your husband chuckled faintly. “You’re asking too many questions,” he mouthed.

Then, swiftly, your face was tilted upward. Viren pressed his lips to yours. You made a startled sound, eyes shutting tight. Once you could feel the passion in his kiss, your eyes softened over, and you returned his movements.

This kiss occurred in the most unlikely of times. Yet, somehow, it had taken you whole. It was more emotional. _More authentic_ …

“Um. Father? I understand you two are having a serious moment, but… I’m standing _right here_.”

The two of you parted lips. Viren shot a look at his slightly grossed-out son. “What? Your father isn’t allowed to kiss his wife during a moment of anguish? If you don’t like it, then turn the other way.” The high mage released you slowly. He picked up the basket, then took up his staff. Returning to his mission, he looked to one of the soldiers on his left. “Lucille. Escort Lady [y/n] to the cellars with the rest of the castle personnel. Report back when finished.”

The addressed soldier nodded her head. She came forward, and you turned around to walk with her to the stairs. You gazed at Viren one last time before descending on the staircase, and he acknowledged you in return with assuring eyes.

All you could do now was pray.

Pray that Harrow would live.

Pray that your trust wasn’t in vain.

~OOO~

The castle cellars were the standard emergency hiding spots—though cold and musty, they were large enough to easily contain all two-or-three hundred people. There were around thirty people in each cell, accompanied by one or two guards who stationed themselves by doorways. A few extra guards stood within the entrance to the cellars, scattered along the stairway up to the doors, monitoring anyone attempting to pass by. Once it was confirmed that all were present, the cellar doors were locked. Until the signal was made, nobody would be permitted in or out.

You were placed in one of the beer cellars, thankfully with Charlotte and a few familiar faces. In the far corner beside a few barrels, you were sitting upon a wooden bench. You silently watched the people around you. Most of them looked uneasy—they were seated and behaved, but the uncertainty was still embedded into their wrinkles and frowns. A handful of young children were crying, mainly because they were tired, hungry or both. Only the baker’s wife, a very on-edge woman to begin with, was tearful and panicking about the elves, but her husband kept holding and shushing her for fear that she’d stir up the masses.

Among these people, you appeared calm. Exactly as King Harrow requested. Your demeanor would be contagious, be it reserved or apocalyptic. Half of them had already taken note of your presence and would glance over at you every few minutes.  The stares were to be expected, but they reminded you not to crack. Any sign of fear, and the fear would escalate.

Charlotte hadn’t said a word either. She’d been sitting next to you with her head down. Her face was shadowed over by the darkness, but you looked long enough to recognize that a thousand thoughts were running through her head.

Harrow would’ve especially wanted this girl to be okay. Without saying anything, you gently held her hand. Her face turned to you, bright blue eyes meeting yours. She really needed the assurance.

“ _J’ai peur_.”

_I’m scared._

As were you. But you couldn’t admit that to her. Your eyes surveyed the girls sitting near you before returning to Charlotte. It was best for you to speak with her in Collinian, both for the sake of privacy and for her ease of self-expression. “ _You will live_ ,” you answered firmly. “ _The elves won’t come after us_.”

Charlotte shook her head. “ _That isn’t what I meant_.”

Your grip softened. “ _You’re scared for the king_ ,” you uttered faintly.

“ _You spoke to him earlier. How did he seem?_ ”

You took a second to think of an answer. He was as scared as everyone else, yet he didn’t act upon it. He was too accepting of the worst of fate. Not only that, but he felt he deserved the worst for reasons you didn’t understand. Regardless, he would want everyone to know the positive. You could tell the truth. _Part_ of it.

“ _He assured me that everything would be alright_.”

For a moment, the handmaid was silent. Her visage started to turn serene. “ _Good_. _Then I am no longer scared_. _None of us should be._ ”

You were amazed by the response. Her words rang true, and you could see it clearly—the thoughts were no longer racing, her fair face no longer flawed by the twinges of fear. Charlotte was too clever to be naïve: how could the girl take it so credibly and find so much peace in it? She was only going to shock you further. She looked to the rest of the people in the room, continuing in Collinian as she did so. “ _Look at all these fearful faces. They break my heart. The king always takes care of them, yet they are afraid? If they were truly loyal to him, then they wouldn’t be._ ”

You looked at Charlotte, bewildered. “ _Why do you say they aren’t loyal?_ ”

She looked back into your eyes. “ _Because there is no loyalty without trust, Madame_.”

You didn’t reply.

“ _And_ _I trust King Harrow_ ,” she whispered. “ _I have, and I always will. If he says that all is well, then I will believe it. I must._ ”

You gazed at her, now feeling alarmed by the confident gleam in her eyes. Did she not know the harsh reality about humans and trust? A girl who saw the worst of men would surely know better. “ _Charlotte…”_ You swallowed. There was a chance she’d judge you for asking. You had to be cautious. _“Do you ever feel afraid he’d… do something to lose your trust?”_

Charlotte looked neither puzzled nor upset.

“ _Isn’t that the risk we accept when we trust anybody, Madame?_ ”

Something disturbing had interrupted your conversation. You and Charlotte shot your sights towards the source of the abrupt sounds of coughing, wheezing and loud female voices. Startled women came forth and quickly surrounded a figure that was being held by two panicking girls. The other voices in the cellar began to lower, and people stared in concern.

The two of you shot from the bench and rushed over. As you approached the circle, you were able to see the source over the girls’ shoulders. Sitting on the floor was another girl with short black hair and a maid’s dress. You instantly recognized her as Kiri, one of the cleaning maids and Charlotte’s roommate. Her chest was moving up and down rapidly, and with each struggling breath was a horrific whistling rasp that suggested a closing airway. The other girls were sitting at each side of her, supporting her back, urging her to keep her head tilted upward.

One of the women turned around. “Charlotte! Kiri is having an asthma attack!”

Your handmaid rushed between two women and crouched down in front of Kiri. “It’s the mold down here. She’s allergic to it.”

“Does she have medicine?!”

Charlotte came up to the wheezing girl. She quickly patted down all the pockets of her dress. When she discovered them to be empty, she looked up at her with widened eyes. “Where is your medicine, Kiri?”

Amongst the terrible noises, Kiri had somehow managed to make words as exhales. “… Forgot it _*wheeze*_ …   _*huff*_ … in _*wheeze*_ in bedroom…”

Charlotte exclaimed something in Collinian and stood back up. In a hurry for a solution, she looked around. Finally, she looked at you. “I know where her breathing medicine is! I must go back to the dorms, _Madame_!”

“But the guards won’t let anyone leave,” you swallowed.

Charlotte came up to you insisting. “I must! She’s very serious right now! I’ve never seen her this bad before!”

“Shouldn’t we ask if anyone else here has the same medicine?”

“No! There’s no guarantee! It will take too long!” Charlotte squeezed your arm. “I know exactly where she puts it. The servant dorms aren’t far from the cellars. If they let me go there, I can grab it in time. Please!”

You couldn’t say no, nor did you want to. There was a chance you could convince the guards to make an exception. They _had_ to. You took Charlotte by the hand and started to swiftly swerve through the crowd, moving towards the doorway where two guards resided. When you were close, the guards took note of you and shifted closer in front of the doors.

“We have an emergency. A girl needs her medicine right away. Let my handmaid go to the servant dorms to obtain it.”

“No one is permitted to leave until the signal is called,” stated a guard. “Lord Viren’s orders.”

Charlotte stepped in front of you. “Please! We beg of you! She might die if I do not get it to her! You have to understand!”

“it’s martial order, miss. There’s nothing we can do.”

Charlotte was about to beg louder, but you rested a hand on her shoulder. Looking the guards in the eyes, you stood tall and spoke firmly. “I am Lady [y/n]. First Daughter of House Bartolomus. Wife of Lord Viren. One of you will escort my handmaid to the servant dorms at once. Do not worry about your orders. Should you be questioned by your comrades or superiors, you well tell them that I ordered you to break protocol, and they can speak to me. My husband included. Is that understood?”

There was a silence amongst the guards that seemed like forever. You didn’t break your hard stare with either of them. Would soldiers succumb to the authority of a royal advisor’s wife? If not, this would be the first time they did. You’d make damn sure of it.

Finally, the soldiers looked to each other, then back at you. One of the guards pursed his lip. “Very well, Lady [y/n]. We will escort her there. After this, we _must_ bring her back here immediately.”

You nodded. “So be it.”

One guard backed away from the door, and the other started to unlock it. Charlotte spun around to you. She mouthed her thanks, then touched your hand. You held her hand in return, but you gave it one firm squeeze—a serious note to your next command.

“Be safe, Charlotte.”

She nodded. “ _Oui, Madame_.”

The guard motioned for the girl to come. You released her hand, almost reluctantly. Secretly, you wished there was some other way to help Kiri. But only Charlotte could do this task, and for that you had to confide in her. She gazed at you for a second longer while she neared the door.

She turned away, passing through the opening door into the next cellar, the guard following behind her.

Then the door was shut.

~OOO~

Tonight was the night that peace had died. The world you knew was shattered. The life you knew was forever changed. Gods knew if you were going to know happiness ever again.

Charlotte had never returned to the cellars. You waited on your bench for twenty minutes. Thirty minutes. Then an hour. Kiri suffered through her breathing, but by the heavens’ grace the girl did not die. All the ladies’ fears shifted over to your missing handmaid, and soon you were becoming just as breathless.

That was just the beginning of the nightmare.

The signal was finally called, and the people were released. But instead of joy, there was grief spreading through the masses like an infection.

Before you knew it, the infectious grief reached your ears. The end of everything. You didn’t want to hear it. You wished it weren’t true. You cried, and you screamed.

King Harrow was dead.

_King Harrow was dead._

**_King Harrow was dead._ **


	9. The Dove and the Crow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, ladies, gents and humans. Here is the long-awaited chapter 9 that took me almost 2 months to complete. I strongly apologize to everyone for such a long wait. Personal life has been keeping me busy, but I've managed to make time for my writing. To compensate, I've thrown in some special treats that I think you guys will love.
> 
> Thank you, and I hope you enjoy.

 

Charlotte was discovered at the bottom of a stairway. The girl was alive, but her condition was severe. She had tumbled over and had fallen down the entire flight of steps. The traumas that resulted were a sprained ankle, a broken leg, a broken wrist, and a hefty blow to the side of her head from hitting the hard floor. This, however, was a fortune compared to the fate of the guards escorting her: both were found as corpses bloodied in the hallway above. When the soldiers and nurses questioned her, she gave an explanation that almost curdled their blood.

Charlotte had successfully retrieved Kiri’s medicine. She and the guards were on their way back when they encountered the culprit. _A moonshadow elf assassin_. She must’ve been infiltrating through that route to meet with the other elves prior to entering the king’s tower. When the soldiers caught sight of her, she attacked them instantly. They tried to fight back, but they stood no match for her quick blades. In the middle of the assault was when Charlotte was knocked over and sent falling. The elf left her be and went on her way, perhaps assuming the girl was dead.

Once you received the news, you and Kiri immediately rushed down to the castle’s front gates. Amongst the injured of the night, the handmaid was about to be loaded onto one of the medical carriages. You nearly knocked over a few nurses to get to her before she was taken.

It was clear that Charlotte had been crying. She was expressionless when you came to her, but you could see the wet spots on the gurney beside her head, in addition to her reddened swollen eyes.

Kiri rushed to the other side of her. “C-Charlotte.” Her voice shook as she came to the verge of tears. She covered her mouth. “Oh my gosh, Charlotte. Please… Please forgive me. This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have forgotten my medicine. I’m so sorry.”

Charlotte turned her head slightly. “Do not cry, Kiri,” she murmured slowly. “You’ve done… nothing wrong.”

You put a hand to her shoulder. “The gods were with you, Charlotte. You’re lucky to be alive right now. We’re finding it hard to forgive ourselves.”

Her eyes turned downward. “My wellbeing… means nothing to me.”

You stayed mute. Another tear rolled down Charlotte’s pale cheek, and you wanted to begin crying again. She already knew.

“Soren… Claudia… Did they survive?”

You nodded. “They’re in good health.”

“… What of _Monsieur_ Viren?”

There was a pause. You didn’t have an answer for her. You hadn’t seen Viren since you were sent down to the cellars. The mage was nowhere to be found amongst the crowds of mourning subjects and wounded soldiers. You didn’t see him in the mix of the critically injured, and you didn’t know whether to take it as a good or bad sign. Thankfully, before you went into a state of panic, someone came up from behind and addressed you. You looked over your shoulder and saw Soren, standing drained both physically and emotionally.

“Father requests to see you.”

~OOO~

Viren’s study was almost flooded in darkness. The only lights in the room came from a few candles, all of which were lit in one particular corner of the room; assuming by the paintings that hung there, it was for good reason.

Viren was sitting in the center of that light when you entered. Even when your presence was known, the mage didn’t stir. He gazed high at the portrait in the corner, keeping as still as stone, giving off the haunting impression that there was no life in the room. For you, it was very upsetting: you were reminded of that heartbreaking lifelessness that came from Harrow tonight. That very moment, just hours ago, when you last saw the king. Alive. _Just barely._

“Father.”

He responded to Soren’s voice in deliberate movements. He turned his head towards you, and he looked at you for a few seconds before standing up from his chair. Now, you could see his edged face fully in the candlelight. There were no tears. His gaze was stale.

Just like Harrow’s.

You couldn’t hold it in. Your tears came back in brutal force the second you saw him. An awful whimper fell from your lips before growing louder. You felt like you were ready to collapse onto your knees.

Viren stretched his arms out to you. “Come.”

In your agony, you rushed into the light. Into his arms. Slinging your arms around him, you buried your tear-flawed face into the warmth of his shoulder. You could feel strong arms envelop you tightly, holding you close with undeniable intent.

“Leave us… Soren.”

Saddened by your cries, the boy nodded his head and walked out, gently closing the doors behind him.

Unless you had the ability to see the future, you would’ve never thought you’d come to a moment like this. A moment when you needed Viren the way you needed water and air. How inconceivable it was. To think you once despised him. To think you once fervently desired to spit in this man’s face, curse his name, call him every single wicked word in the common tongue. Now, he was the first you thought of running to tonight. The first you could find comfort in. _The only one._

Your husband held you in silence. Watched you. Spoke to you in hushed tones. You fell apart against him, shattered upon him like glass. And he permitted you to be so.

“…I didn’t get to say goodbye,” you breathed repeatedly. “… I didn’t get to…”

He hushed you one more time. Slipping a finger beneath your chin, he raised up your reddened face. The affections he consoled you with were just as ardent as the last, and just as soothing for the heart. He silenced your whimpers as he stole you up in a kiss. Soft and deep, his plush lips embraced yours with so much meaning. In any other situation, you would’ve dared to wonder about the reasons for the intensity. Was he genuinely concerned about your grief? Was he holding you tight to cope with his own, or was there more going on inside his head? Such were the questions you would’ve asked yourself, but now was not the time.

At last, the two of you slowly pulled out from the kiss. Your cries had settled, and only silence remained. Viren had made a sudden shift away from tenderness. He was focusing down at you. His hands slid away until he caught your arms, holding them firmly as he maintained strong eye contact. Then, he spoke to you softly. “There’s something I need you to do for me, [y/n].”

You picked up on the seriousness in his eyes and body language. You returned eye contact without expression. “What is it?” you whispered.

Viren pursed his lips, and there was a heavy exhale through his nostrils. “Help me prepare the king’s funeral.”

You had to take a moment to take those words in. _A funeral_. It stung, but you didn’t allow yourself to cry again. If anyone was going to pay the greatest homage and lead Harrow’s funeral, it would have to be the two of you. For that, you needed to have yourself together. You nodded slowly. “I will,” you answered him. “Just… Please. Give me a day before we talk about it.”

His face turned morbid. “We don’t have a day.”

“… Wha…” Your head faintly shifted. “What do you mean?”

His voice was firm when he said it. “We need to have the funeral _tonight_.”

First there was disbelief. You kept staring at your husband, and when you realized that he was adamant about what he said, your expression turned into horror. Your mouth dropped open as if a madman had spat something sacrilegious at your face.

“ _What_?!”

He released your arms. “There will be a procession through the city streets before dawn. Spread the word and go ready yourself. I will speak with Opeli.”

“Are you _mad_?!” You took a step back. “You can’t do this! Not tonight!”

Viren seemed unaffected by your response. He kept to his awful request. “Our kingdom is in a state of crisis. We have no choice.”

“ _No_ , Viren! Nobody is going to agree to that. Especially Opeli. We’re supposed to be mourning him for seven days before the funeral pyre. It’s Katolian tradition. Do you have any idea what the people will think of us burning his body on the _very same night_? Everyone will go crazy! They’ll riot in the streets!”

Viren hushed you. “[y/n], [y/n].” His voice had become soft again. He stepped towards you and held your hands. “Listen to me. We have to look at what we’re dealing with right now… Our king was just slain by _moonshadow elves_. They didn’t simply infiltrate a human territory and kill on a whim: that was an official declaration of _war_. Our country is in danger right now, and for all we know, they could be targeting the other kingdoms as well. There’s little time for tears. We have to move fast. We need to go forward. _Now_.”

_Forward. Fast. Now._ Why wasn’t he caught up in the present? Harrow was his friend, too. You had to confide in Viren, accept his rationale, but you couldn’t deny the feeling that something was just _wrong_.

It was killing you inside. “Harrow was our _friend_ , Viren… We can’t dishonor him like this.”

In that moment, something about Viren’s countenance had made you ill. Perhaps your eyes were playing tricks on you. You saw it for a split second—it was so quick that you wanted to forget about it. Thick brows had furrowed, and what flashed from his eyes was something…

Cold.

Viren released his expression and took a deep breath, wrinkles softening over as he made effort to focus on you again. He was back to looking sensitive for you. “I want to mourn him, too, [y/n]. Right now, I feel as though I could spend the rest of my life crying for the one I’ve lost. But this is the real world. I don’t get to cry. _We_ don’t get to cry, but we can still honor Harrow in other ways. Right now, we do that by keeping our heads high and our hearts strong. It keeps us together, and it lets the people know they are still secure.”

You didn’t know what else to say besides what you felt. “I’m… afraid…”

He drew you back into his arms again. His need was never more profound. “Can you do this, my dear?” he asked you desperately. “Can you help me… move _forward_?”

Your head was turned off to the side. You couldn’t make any more eye contact with Viren, lest you burst into tears again. Struggling with the question at hand, you subconsciously allowed your gaze to fall upon the mirror in the corner.

What choice did you have?

~OOO~

He made it happen. Somehow.

Had any eagle been soaring through the Katolian sky, it would’ve witnessed a spectacle resembling a river of fireflies in the grass. The stream flickered, dots of gold moving along slowly, their haunting light so powerful that it could light every dark corner of the world. It was a ritual that stole the breath and did a dead king justice. Beautiful, but sad.

You’d been placed with the rest of the noblewomen of the royal court. Twenty of them took part in the procession, divided into two neat rows side-by-side, guards with torches accompanying them on the outside. Being the twenty-first woman and of the highest rank, you were positioned in front of them. Like the others, you were donning a black funeral cloak over the regalia of your house—yours was a red gown embellished with gold embroidery, the Bartolomus crest sewn impeccably upon your left breast. With such powerful symbols, you knew that every citizen would be watching you intently as you walked by. With that in mind, you wore your hood a little lower, lest you falter and shed a tear. It would also help you not to look too far ahead, for your group wasn’t far behind the shrouded body.

Leading the procession further ahead were Viren and Opeli. Aside from the slow tolls of the bell, the atmosphere was quiet enough for you to just barely hear their voices. They were silent until you reached the halfway point through the city. Opeli finally said something to him; though you couldn’t make out the words, you recognized the disgusted hiss in her tongue. Viren’s response was calm, but he was as confident as a lion. There was no more talk after that.

Partially, you were relieved. At least the two weren’t breaking out into a brawl—that had been your biggest fear tonight since Viren had brought up his plans to the high council. The two had always knocked heads, but this had to be the worst argument they’ve had. Upon hearing his proposal, Opeli almost had a heart attack. You could only stand behind the doors and listen to the high mage battle against her roaring protests. You didn’t bother to stay around to hear the rest for fear that she’d find you and question you as well. By some wild magic, be it his silver tongue or his dark craft, Viren must’ve finally gotten her to settle and comply, but that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be an ugly aftermath. Right now, you couldn’t bring yourself to look that woman in the eyes.

Eventually, the march proceeded into the ancient cemetery of kings. After passing through the canyon of towering statues, the procession ended at the stone pyre. While the body was being prepared, the rest of the people flowed in and gathered around. You and the noblewomen quietly stood off to the left, and a few guards stood on each side of you. Being in front, you had a clear view of the ceremony.

Viren approached the stone pyre. Before the steps, he stopped and turned around to face the crowd. Then, he began to speak.

“We woke to a devastating truth… Our king has been taken from us. Slain by the forces of Xadia. Vile moonshadow elves!”

You’d forgotten. The citizens hadn’t yet known about the circumstances of Harrow’s death. Behind you were rolling waves of gasps. Men held their wives close, and children hugged their mothers at the mention of elves. A few ladies beside you were dropping their jaws. An awful eruption of fear was about to be invoked. Still, it was much better than coping with a riot.

Viren began to look sentimental. When the voices died down, he continued his speech. “To me, he was more than a king. In his final hours, Harrow called me… his _brother_.”

“Wait.”

Viren glared over his shoulder. Opeli was standing at the pyre, her expression as hard as stone. “Where are the princes?” she questioned. “They need to be here!”

_Callum… Ezran… Weren’t they still in hiding?..._

The answer was something you didn’t expect. The high mage looked away from her. The face he made before the people… It gave you mixed feelings. There was a stabbing ache in the pit of your stomach. But something in the way that man frowned looked…

“The princes… are _dead_.”

_… What?..._

The disturbing cries around you didn’t shake you. For a moment, the entire world around you was blank. Your body was frozen like ice. The life felt like it was passing in and out of your eyes. As many times as it rang inside your head, the message wasn’t sinking in.

_The children… Dead…_

But you came back to the sound of Viren’s bold shouting. “We cannot let Xadia’s cruelty go unanswered! We must move forward with strength!... Light the Pyre!”

Everyone looked to the councilwoman. With the torch in her hand, she wielded the power to initiate. To move everyone forward. To break tradition and do the unthinkable. Would she go through with it?

That answer was made clear with the harsh flick of her torch.

Her flame went out. As did those of her attendants.

“ _No_.”

Your adrenaline was rushing. Without a flame, there would be no ceremony. The tension was _seething_ between Viren and the others. Some instinct was jolting you to rush forward and intervene. You were ready to step forward, but you were quickly halted by the spear of one of the guards beside you. You stood still, watching the scene in worry.

Viren didn’t need to fight with Opeli: he came prepared. Still collected, he called his daughter’s name. You witnessed the girl step out of the crowd. Though you couldn’t see what she had in her hand, you could hear her chanting something strange. Then, to your shock, a trail of flames burst forth from her hand. Into the pillars before the pyre it slammed, lighting each one in its eerie dance. At last, the flames jumped high, and upon the body they descended.

You watched the pyre burn like a violent sun. In front of the hellish light stood Viren’s silhouette.

“When a ruler of Katolis dies, we mourn for seven days. But we are at war. Today, we must mourn seven-fold!”

“For tonight, there will be… a coronation.”

~OOO~

The journey back wasn’t as long as the procession. Waiting outside the cemetery were some horses for the Katolian elite. Viren was given three of them: two for his children, and the third for you and him to share. You sat behind him on the horse, holding to him tightly the entire way home, and the smell of soot and smoke in his robes kept you thinking about everything.

You decided not to speak until you were back inside your quarters. After dismissing his children to bed, Viren escorted you by the arm to your bedchamber. The room was in the same condition it had been left in. A few of your dresses were laying on the bed, but the room would’ve been otherwise neat. You also spotted what you’d been working on at your stationery just before the alarm was called—your mother’s letter was still open on your desk, and a piece of paper was beside it, still blank even after moments of trying to think of what to say. When you came in, you only cared for the dresses, taking them off the bed and laying them neatly over the chair beside your closet. At this point, the letter was the least of your worries.

Viren had already begun to undress. He’d removed his belt and was unclasping the brooch of his tunic. After putting his tunic and staff aside, he approached you from behind. You were about to undo your cloak, but he placed his hand over yours. “Allow me,” he insisted softly.

Astounded, you released the ties of your cloak, permitting him to do the honors. His fingers were nimble: a few gentle pulls on the satin ribbon, slow and eloquent, and the knot was undone. He grabbed the edges, and you felt the fabric slide smoothly from your shoulders. In a way, it was comforting. As he walked over to the corner of the room, you chose to ask him.

“You told me that Harrow wasn’t a perfect man. That he had pride and regret… What did you mean by that?”

While hanging the cloak on a hook, he glanced back at you from over his shoulder. A wrinkle appeared between his brows. “Why are you asking me this?”

Your memory flashed Harrow’s face and words from the last time you saw him. Moments away from his demise, and his “mistakes” were all he grieved for. Not even a sign of remorse for leaving everyone behind. With the king’s tragedy passed, would Viren finally cease holding his secrets? “I suppose it’s… because I’m lost,” you answered. “I knew him as a good man. I understand that he was human, but… to be so remorseful that he wanted to die?” You turned your head. “He would’ve had to have done something horrendous that we don’t know about. And to do such a thing wouldn’t have been like him at all… I want to grieve him as the man I knew, but things have changed. He kept the invasion a secret, and that was nothing. We could’ve saved him, and for all we know, the princes would’ve survived. My trust in him faltered… Now, I’m not sure how I’m supposed to remember him.”

Viren walked up to you silently. His eyes were stale, but his affection resumed. Hands reaching around your head, he proceeded to unclasp your hairpin. Your hair gradually untwisted and fell, and he smoothed his long fingers through the tresses with care. The touch was making your eyelids heavy. There was so much comfort in your scalp that you almost wanted to close your eyes, to let him stand there and keep caressing. After watching your response carefully, he released your hair, then walked away to put your pin on your desk.

“You’re the first person I know to question their loyalty to Harrow,” he answered. “You’re also the first to seek the truth. Some people aren’t as grand as they make themselves appear. Harrow was too idealistic about being a righteous king. As a ruler, there were unthinkable decisions he had to make for the wellbeing of humanity. He was so appalled by this harsh reality that he did everything in his power to conceal it from the public, not for their protection but out of fear for his image. The march into Xadia was the last straw for him. I tried to help him, but he buried himself under too much grief… I was in the same situation you were, my dear. I could’ve saved him, but he refused. His pride became his ultimate demise.”

“Then whoever our next king is, I pray he won’t make that same mistake.”

Viren turned around, then strode towards you. You caught his gaze, and your eyelids were suddenly light again. The engrossed gleam in those steel eyes told you that something was brewing inside his mind.

“He won’t.”

Your gaze followed his carefully, staying connected even as he stopped just before you. It was then that you were aware of something simmering within his aura. You continued to gaze up at his face, and the feeling began to increase. In those irises, the cold iron was growing warm. The sharp angles of his face were less cutting and more drawing. The hurried breath turned slow, steady and hot. You couldn’t deny that this heat made him more beautiful; by the way he stared, it was easy to see that his thoughts were about you. And suddenly, for once, something felt right again. This—in addition to the truth—made you feel wanted.

“Then who will be our next king? If the princes are gone, then whom can we confide in now?”

Your questions were only met with a sharpening gaze. Viren’s hands took hold of yours.

“We’ll take care of that in the morning. Right now, there are things I need to say.”

Your heart was starting to beat faster. Guiding you by the hands, Viren brought you to the bed. The two of you sat down together, side by side. Still gazing at you intently, he held your hands a little tighter, almost pulling you a little closer. You observed his face, felt his gestures, and you were nearly breathless by what you were witnessing.

How could you even describe in words the way he spoke to you? You were being given something you hadn’t had in months. _Something you missed dearly._

“[y/n]. I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for me tonight. Everyone is suffering, but I’m the one suffering the most. I just did something that made me lose the support of the High Council. Now, in addition to the loss of a brother, I’m the most hated man in this castle. In the waking hours, when I walk amongst them, they’re going to spit at me, curse me, and mutter every single word of evil against me. But I will be strong, because I have the support of my family. Aside from my two children, you’re the only one who stayed by my side. Even when you feared the anger of the people, you didn’t run away. You even chose to help me put together this funeral.”

“You don’t know how much this means to me. Your actions speak volumes. You’ve proven yourself to be a true servant of Katolis, and worthy of being called my wife. For that, I wish to repay you.”

By the grace of the gods above, you swore it: no man must’ve ever made your heart swell the way he did. Viren was like a flame in the dead of winter. You wanted to embrace his warmth, to feel him whole. And you needed a connection so that you could feel this for a lifetime.

You could only think of one way.

“Viren.” You murmured the name like honey. For once, you realized your privilege to say his name so intimately, and you felt blessed.

“[y/n].” Your husband spoke to you with equal ardor. His face inched closer as if to give power to the focus between you. “Tell me what you want,” he whispered. “I will give it to you.” His unsmiling face was as passionate as it was serious. _He meant what he said._

You swallowed.

“I want to try again with you.”

There was a soft gasp. Viren sat up and stiffened, and his eyes had grown. “What… do you mean?” he whispered. He stared for a moment at your blushed, longing face. Then, his pale cheeks turned pink. He knew _exactly_ what you meant.

“I want to try again with you,” you repeated. With your face feeling too hot to look at him, you gazed down at your intertwined hands. Your eyes went to the diamond on your wedding ring. “We still haven’t coupled yet… I know we’ve tried and failed, but I think something was missing then… I know you’re going to be dealing with a lot in the morning, too. I want to help you. I want you to endure it with strength.”

Your husband seemed lost for words. He held your hands tighter, thumb stroking your hand. He bit his lip, and his face reddened even more. “You mean… right _now_?” His irises were moving around nervously. “But… I haven’t seen the doctor yet.”

Looking back up at him, you began to frown. “It’s alright… We can try after then...”

“No. No. It’s fine… I mean…” Viren paused himself. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. After letting out a heavy sigh, he opened his eyes to show you a saddened gaze. “I want to make love to you right now,” he explained. “I’m just worried that I’ll fail again. I can’t stand to disappoint you another time… What if it happens again?”

You shook your head. “I don’t care about that. We can just try again tomorrow.”

Viren wasn’t satisfied. He looked at you harder, and he persisted. “And what if we fail tomorrow as well? Or the day after that? Or so on and so forth? We can’t keep trying forever, [y/n].”

Those questions almost made you chuckle. You couldn’t have felt more longing. Not for sex. Not for touch. Not for anything at all. Just _him_ , and him alone. Releasing his hands, you wrapped your arms around his neck. “Is that the worst that could happen?... So what? I’ll stay a virgin for the rest of my life. Worrying about the things we can or cannot do is a waste. I just want to be with you in the fullest way I can. Whatever that means for us, I don’t know yet. But it won’t hurt for us to find out. Okay?”

Though Viren was holding you just as close, he still looked unsure. And in truth, you weren’t even so sure, either. It was like trying to pair a dove with a crow—would it work? Either way, at least there was nothing hidden: your feelings for each other were out in the open, spread wide like feathered wings before flight. Whether you’d fly or fall didn’t matter. Tonight, you’d still have everything you needed.

The moment of truth was approaching. Unable to resist the will to fall into him, you brought yourself up against his chest, your parting lips seeking his kiss. Sure enough, your husband eagerly reciprocated. Now tightly enveloped in his arms, you were wholeheartedly ensnared by warmth and wetness. Shivers went up your spine—Viren was taking your lips and tongue, eager as though he hadn’t kissed a woman in ages. He wanted you as much as you wanted him; right now, that meant you were his oxygen.

Raw sexual attraction began to take over. Things would escalate quickly. No games would be played, and nothing would be withheld. Your senses were gradually heightening like an animal’s, and they forced you to take note of everything on Viren’s body—his smell, his warmth, his firmness, the strength in his grip, and _all of him_. It intensified when he pulled you onto his lap and proceeded to kiss your neck. A sensitive tingle shot down to the base of your core, and your breath became heavy. You rewarded his beautifully ardent kisses, running your fingers through his short hairs, closing your eyes and letting your head tilt.

A short-but-sweet wait for his arousal to grow. It wasn’t long before you could feel the hardened bulge in his lap; it pressed in just the right spot for your own loins to grow sensitive. With a wet suck, Viren pulled away from your neck and stared into your eyes. He appeared as spellbound as you were, his pupils dilated like black moons. Your heart was beating wildly—without hesitating, his reach went straight to the back of your dress, and he quickly undid the clasps from your neck all the way down. You swiftly helped him peel the tight cloth down your torso, off your arms and below your hips, and soon the dress dropped to the floor, along with your slippers and underwear. Once you were bear, the two of you worked to get Viren’s shirt off, then his boots, then his trousers.

It provoked you to see so much of Viren’s skin. When you helped him out of his underwear, his manhood sprang out of the restricting cloth. He was thick and long, sporting a whole and healthy erection for you. Hopefully it would stay that way. Viren was watching closely, his expression a mix between hunger and fear. You looked up at him and sensed the shameful replays running through his memory like flashing images of a nightmare. You knew he’d be afraid, and you had a response prepared for that. A warm smile shining from your lips, your hands gently cupped his square jaw, and he had no choice but to look back up and see your assuring care. After a moment of silence, he loosened his hold on his fears, and he came back to the feeling of simply wanting you.

_Everything will be alright. I’m here._

Your husband swept you back into his embrace. As you resumed your kisses, he brought you up against the pillows and rested you on your back. He hovered over you a moment longer before proceeding to part your legs. Your womanhood was already wet, and your labia were swollen. Though anxious, you were more than ready to receive him. All you could do was lay patiently and look at his handsome form, beads of sweat already forming on your lovely skin.

“Be honest with me,” Viren shakily murmured. He settled his hips carefully between your legs. “Is this your first time? If it isn’t, I won’t be angry. But I need to know.”

He must’ve sensed your growing nervousness. You must’ve been feeling this way simply due to the unknown—you’ve heard from countless sources about sex, talked to friends about their scandalous ventures, but you were never truly going to know until you finally did it yourself. With sincerity, you nodded. “It is,” you replied.

Viren seemed to accept your answer: hooking your legs in his arms, he pulled the two of you closer together. Your entire being was heating up like a furnace. His cock—still firm, thank the gods—was pressing hard against you, eager to enter. “Don’t be scared,” he assured. “Many people say that it’s painful. As long as we do it correctly, it should be pleasurable and shouldn’t hurt you badly. It might be uncomfortable at first, though… I’ll go slow for you. If you need me to stop at any time, you’ll tell me. Understand?”

You gave him another slow nod. You were enamored by the sight of your husband mounting you, preparing himself to claim you. This was how your wedding night should’ve gone. There would be no struggle tonight. No power battle. No insults. No gnashing or toppling for control. Just a man and a woman, a bond and nothing undue.

Without taking his eyes off you, Viren let go of your leg. He reached down between you two and took hold of his cock, lining the tip with your slit. Once everything was in perfect place, he got back into position with you.

“Tell me when you’re ready.”

It was finally happening. How much longer did you need to wait? You were going just as mad as he was. This energy between you was strong enough to break open the earth. Your bodies were shivering like the thunder was in your bones.

You needed it. _Now_.

“Go ahead.”

The moment of your deflowering was almost a blur. Viren was right about what would happen. It was amazing how much you could take inside you. Granted, you were uncomfortably filled, almost to the point of sharp stinging within. You clenched your teeth. You scrunched your nose. Viren hushed you before smothering your lips with kisses. And not a moment too soon, just as told, the pleasure outweighed the pain.

When you were ready, he started off at a slow pace. The feeling of something so large moving in and out of you was even more foreign, but it felt nonetheless gratifying. You took deep breaths and grabbed the bedsheets, a few occasional groans released from the base of your throat. You watched his face contort with each thrust—he appeared as overwhelmed as he was passionate, almost as if he too was a virgin. Needless to say, that wasn’t the case. He’d sired two children, and he moved with confidence. But you were lucky. As the first woman he’d been with in so long, you could witness something incredible. He possessed the experience of an aged man yet the energy of a young lad. Together, these aspects gave him the power to take you in an unimaginable way. And gods, he was _going to_ _use it_.

Sweet nothings floated amongst his gasps, groans and heavy breaths. You could pick up a few of them, even with the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. “So beautiful,” he kept huffing. “So tight.” The low purr in his voice made a searing, erotic heat rush through your veins. It drove you wild. It made you crave more stimulation. Feeling zealous, you attempted to get up and apprehend him so you could change positions. Viren must’ve had the same in mind, for he beat you to it before you could grab him—he slipped himself out of you, and for a second your heart was shattered by the emptiness until he grabbed you by the wrists and hoisted you into his lap. Bodies were slammed up together, skin smacking against skin, sweat being exchanged. You hungrily took hold of the hard shaft and sank yourself back down upon it.

Now full once more, you felt as if you discovered a new natural state. Maybe this was how humans were meant to be. Never alone. Whole as many. Just wandering pieces, partial and incomplete, until they were paired with one another. What other kind of existence could be more blissful, more pleasurable, more elevated and full of life? Alright, perhaps there were some beings who could do without. But not you. You needed this. To be breathing. To be alive. _To simply be._

You and Viren were feral.  You gripped each other’s hair in fists. Lips and tongue collided in a messy kiss. Viren then took hold of your thighs, and he began to propel his hips up into yours. Clinging to him for dear life, you shut your eyes and whined as he fucked you at a hard but steady pace. Judging by the pounding of his cock against your cervix, it was clear that your husband was too lost in the moment to maintain his control. You weren’t used to such a vigorous move—it felt rough, and it would undoubtedly cause some bleeding. But you, too, were too preoccupied to care. If anything, you craved a bit of pain: not enough to snuff out your desire, but enough to make you remember. He was doing it perfectly.

There was suddenly something boiling within the pit of your stomach. Wincing harder, you clung to Viren hard enough for your fingernails to leave marks on his pale skin. The sensation flared as rapidly as it had begun. It seemed utterly insatiable except with the movement of the cock inside you: the natural reaction was to arch your back and lean your weight into his thrusts. Then, after a few loud moans and a headspin, your head fell backward, and you unleashed a loud cry. The urge exploded, and like a violent wave the orgasm ripped through your body.

It wasn’t long before it was Viren’s turn. His vitality had come to a climax, his thrusts escalating to full power. With every few thrusts, his huffs grew louder and higher in pitch. He could only manage to get a few words in to warn you. “Going to” was the only phrase he could mumble repeatedly, but after a certain point, words were no more. Only gasping moans.

“… _O-OH_!”

Viren’s face was mesmerizing to watch—his jaw dropped open, and his eyes turned to saucers. His final thrust came to a screeching halt, and his breath stopped along with it. What happened inside you was the most bizarre (and most amazing) thing you ever felt: his frantic member twitched three times, then he ejaculated. The next thing you could recall was warmth from the hot seed spilling into you.

The following moment was silent. The world simply fell away. All time felt like it stopped between you and him. The two of you could only stare into each other’s eyes, sitting breathless, lost in disbelief.

Finally, the world returned. Viren pulled himself out. He tumbled onto his back, coming back to his breath, panting heavily. His hair, once swept neatly to the side, was now messy from sweat and vigor, a few hairs hanging in front of his forehead. He looked exhausted, but he was satisfied. You joined him at his side, crawling over and collapsing onto your stomach.

After a few seconds he turned onto his side to look at you. “You alright?” he breathed.

You nodded. But frankly, “alright” was an understatement. Besides the tenderness of your legs and hips, you were _more_ than alright. As a matter of fact, this was the best you’ve felt in what seemed like forever.

Finally, you felt…

_Not lonely_.

Exhaustion kicked in shortly after. Neither of you bothered to get dressed. As you were settling down, Viren tucked you into the sheets with him. He raised his hand, and with a quick spell the candle lights in the room went out. He lay down on his side, drawing you flush against his nude form. Now resting in his arms, warm and relieved, you nuzzled your head into his chest and shut your eyes.

The two of you basked in the afterglow, but only briefly. For some reason, your conscience was keeping you awake. You could feel your stomach sinking…

“Viren.”

Your husband’s answer was a haphazard hum. He was on the verge of falling asleep, but his eyes were now open.

You opened your eyes as well. How were you going to put it into words? “Do you think… it might be _wrong_?... What we just did?”

He opened his eyes a little more, scrunching his brows. “What do you mean?”

You took a deep breath. Not even you were certain. You had to pause and think, reflecting deeply on your feelings.

“I loved this,” you explained. “The things you just did to me. Right now, I’m feeling something that I’ve never felt before, and I’m happier than you know. In fact, this is the happiest I’ve felt in a long time. I almost feel like I’m _glowing_ right now…

“But doing _this_ … Feeling _this way_ … on the same night our friend dies?… I shouldn’t feel so happy right now… I should be crying like everyone else, not laying here and feeling okay… Did I do this at the wrong time?... Am I dishonoring Harrow’s memory?”

Viren slowly propped himself onto his arm. Eyes fully open, he looked surprised, almost dismayed. He cooed a bunch of no’s repeatedly, reaching up to cup your cheek fondly. He leaned over you more closely so that his face was above yours.

“Don’t ever question your feelings, my darling. Don’t question whether they’re acceptable. You’re different from everyone else, for what you feel right now is the sign of a strong woman. Today, the people have mourned sevenfold, but instead of joining them, we’ve smiled and made love. We’ve bonded together. Given strength to one another. For that reason, we do not crumble in the face of this tragedy.”

You were listening to him quietly. There was a gust of power in his voice, just as there was at the funeral. It was abnormal, but it was comforting. Your husband set his hand down beside your head and hovered above you, gazing down with an assuring smile. “They might not be ready for what’s to come, but _we are_. We’re going to move forward through this dark time, and we’re going to make it out victorious.”

“That’s what Harrow would want for us… That’s what Harrow would want for _you_.”

_Through dark times_. Viren had made it clear tonight, and though he had the power to make anyone feel secure, there would still be fear. Even your brave heart was struck by the sting of dread.

“We can’t be the only two,” you answered him. “If Harrow cannot lead us, then who will?”

Your only reply was a chaste kiss.

“Leave that for sunrise. For now, we must rest.”

~OOO~

_Woe to he who violates himself for the sake of his carnal pleasure. To pollute the mind with impure thoughts is a sin, but to act upon impure thoughts and pollute the body is worse. Woe to he who does this, for he shall not taste the grace of the Gods Almighty._

Well. Aaravos had been breaking that rule for almost a thousand years to date. He stopped caring about it after two. It started off as once every month—with the abundance of willing partners, he seldom needed to do it. After he was locked away, it turned into once per week. Then, it was twice per week. Now, it was on a daily basis, normally before bedtime or during a hot bath. To him it was an ordinary ritual of self-care, just like brushing his hair, washing his face, polishing his horns and all. The sacred Tahara—the Book of Purity—didn’t think it was necessary. But he did. What did the Tahara know about his current ordeal? If the gods really expected anybody to be chaste while lingering in isolation for almost a thousand years, then they were asking for too much.

The elf was tending to himself right now. A desperate hand was pumping over a hardened shaft slicked with some warm oil. The stars of his loins were glittering delightfully, the tip already leaking with an iridescent pre. He was making himself squirm in his bed like a sickened man, his feet and free hand gripping the silk sheets and leaving wrinkles.

_A blessed child of the Gods Almighty shall not affiliate himself with the impure… He shall not breathe the same air as the unclean human man, or else he too shall be unclean. He shall not let his eyes fall upon humans, or speak to humans, or share food or drink with humans, or enter human domains. He shall not share, receive or touch anything contaminated by the human man. If a blessed child of the Gods Almighty commits any of these, then he has sinned._

_A blessed child of the Gods Almighty shall not touch the human man by any means. He shall not love nor want the human man. Most importantly, he shall not have illicit sexual relations with the human man. If a blessed child does so, then his body is contaminated._

He was fantasizing about the humans again. Humans had always taken space in his imagination, more so than did elves. How could he _not_ think about them? There was too much to marvel about those pretty little creatures—soft, hornless heads, little rounded ears, boundless colors of hair and skin that mimicked every shade of the earth. Their curiosity. Their passion. Their desire. Sometimes, they even made better lovers. Any elf who discovered this about Aaravos had called him a fetishist; a few spiteful souls had even stretched the gossip and accused him of defiling animals as well. But not even wicked words could force him to yield. To him, the elves were too ignorant. Their foolish eyes were too stuck to their books, charts and scriptures to look anywhere else.

Tonight, Aaravos was particularly libidinous. He was pleasuring himself to the memory of the two humans in his mirror. He’d seen many beauties amongst their race, but those two were exceptional—a tall man beginning to silver, and a vivacious young woman. He could tell by their mannerisms that they were married. Clearly, both had the bedroom skills to top off their looks.

Only, it was a shame the man couldn’t make it past foreplay… Aaravos would’ve gladly helped him. Either he’d take him from behind, or he’d take his place on the bed.

Frankly, the woman had piqued his interest a little more. She was a little dancing flame, young, lively and fiery. She was blatantly crushed when the man had left the room. Aaravos had been looking at her for the longest time while she sat there alone in the room. Never would he forget the bottomless longing in those pretty doe eyes…

And pretty doe eyes always made him climax.

Aaravos’ head jerked up off the pillows. His stomach wrenched, and he groaned out loud. He came over his stomach, a few spots falling onto the silk. A satisfied frustration passed over him, and the elf fell back limply.

And there he lingered for the rest of the night, floating in his own sweet bliss. His own shameless world. His solitude.

He didn’t yet know how, but he’d try to see the girl again.

_A blessed child of the Gods Almighty shall not covet what’s his neighbor’s. He shall honor the union between two souls, and he shall not dare sever it. He shall not lust for his neighbor’s wife. He shall not stray her away in mind, body or spirit. He shall not engage in adultery, or else he is stained with sin._


End file.
